Have you ever noticed
that when the unrelenting season
of air as crisp as the taste of september apples
comes washing in like the crash of sea upon the dry sand

It is on a day such as this,
on a walk I see
the meandering pines
stretching their hands to the sky
No longer appearing like branches,
they certainly look like roots.

As so.

When the summer is gone.
Perhaps the world is all upside down.
As I am upside down
without you.