September

Golden rays mute
in denim skies
as a whispered coolness
sickles the air

In front of
Wal-Mart
beach chairs and
gas grills
huddle together
like trembling refugees

While everywhere
wary children
in pretty, shiny clothes
assemble
on street corners
hugging uncracked books

For you see
bold and noble
August
has fallen
torn and toppled

His page
sea-sawing
downward
to join its
discarded siblings  
on the stony floor

Feeling again
a harbinger
breath,
I dismiss
the chill

Only to
resume
my poetic
duty,
cataloguing
each veiled
and vexing sign