Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
traffic backup,
    roadwork signs.
drive down road,
    little houses
treed yards.
    brown leaves,
first sign of fall.
    kids about to go back to
    return to work. rolling
on the seconds go,
    ticking by faster
each year so it

cars piled up,
     to slow, won't go.
tiny dancers in the
     wind blow on to car
     another sign of coming
Harvest Season.
     people resist the clear
     enjoying the fall,
but resenting the

I can't understand
     New England birds,
you're housed in
     cocoons like caterpillars
that guard against the
not freezer coldness
     that animals call home.
I'm not sure the memo
     reached you,
but this isn't the

trees like snakes,
     shed their
rainbow skins, as
    "Old Man Winter"
kicks in. the sound of
      leaves crunching, cold
on the floor under foot.
     Autumn's death has
no memorial,
     birds flying South
a eulogy.
Ash Slade
Written by
Ash Slade  24/Non-binary/CT
Please log in to view and add comments on poems