outside my veranda's heavy sliding glass
autumnal shades pop and flap
against the ever-grey-
that expansive distant bulb
glowing dumb and cool
in its own breezes,
and the neutral black
lines of power and telephone magic
sway as they run
indifferently through this
portrait of fall-
numb to its colors and smells,
in this perfect hour
of this rush of the seasons.