The leaves shift from vibrant emeralds to mild ochres.
Fading at last to rich burgundy and burnt-looking shades of browns.
The sun beats down on us harshly, not letting up even the slightest bit at the changing phase of the Calander.
The breeze finally begins to move so that the heat isn't so stifling, but it feel like it's mocking me.
As if the wind itself can feel the sweat dripping down my back.
The dying leaves look odd in the bright sunlight.
Two things that do not go together.
autumn colors and summer heat.
Yet here we are.
The beauty in the trees eventually start making their descent, for which the season is named.
Leaves pile-up and bake in the sun.
We rake pine straw into bails.
We have to check our skin for ticks after we go in and bathe.
It carries on this way until the sun disappears and the rain comes.
Clouds cover the pumpkin-lined porches of suburban houses.
Candy melts in our plastic buckets before we even make it back to the car.
One day the raindrops that land on your face suddenly feel nice and cool.
Then it feels like liquid ice is falling down on you.
The rain is gone now but so is the sun.
A rare break from the heat.
The trees are bare, and the grass is yellow.
It's time to change to your warm bedclothes.
You start sleeping in socks again.
The humidity is gone from the air, and you suddenly can breathe and it's like the first time all over again.
When the days grow shorter and nights darker you put a kettle on, though you don't much like tea.
You drink it anyway because it seems to fit the season.
YOU ARE READING
Musings on Life from a Dead Girl
Poesía#2 in poetry July 2024 Poetry about the life of a girl.
