Summer's webs remain behind.

They are tucked between an air conditioner
who is leaving for vacation on a shelf in the laundry room downstairs
and the window frame that faces a lonely winter
tucked out of view on a short wall staring at the pond next door
which has been emptied by this Autumn's drought.

And like that old mottled and greyed lace dress I saw hanging limply in a thrift shop once,
they speak of livelier times.