They're tacked along
an outcropping of wall

and one droops because
of a missing tack

and after all these years
we've never fixed it

I guess politics
is war

and war begats wounds
which turn to scars

and then

badges

I hobble along
thinking

broken toe
blistered pad

these leaves back to back
they fall

flopping

on top of each
other

Beige walls
with painted blue anchors

yellowed light

a gray rug
worn

but still good

do you
or don't you


everybody does
has a story to tell

that is

Last month it was
sultry

but today the air
bites

no notice
no transition
and definitely


no warning


just like people
who rarely say goodbye

or herald their changes
and maybe  I shouldn't

and maybe it's not
necessary

but
I'll tell you anyway


I've growing terse
in my old age

through a streaked window pane
I watched life

get washed like flotsam and jetsam
into a storm sewer

and realized  again
that

it's all about days like these
and  the quotidian truths

they reveal

It rained last night

and the flood waters
washed away

a pair of kids
red rubber boots

a four square ball
and a lecture

no one needs to hear

But not yet still
green

the leaves are that
of Summer

we wish and we must
be careful

what we wish for
and look beyond

what is strikingly
beautiful

and at the time
never

here to stay