The little Leo.
Sits at the edge
of the dock.
As the summer closes
and the small waves
lap under her legs,
She watches the glitter
at the edge of this
wood and the things
floating and thinks
about her season fading
away into the waves,
into the wind
away from her skin, her
mane, her cheeks.
And how she dreams of
having such grace as
the East coast seasons.
The Autumn came
with a confused yet somehow graceful transition.
It happened in the wee hours
of the first day of fall,
a Monday.
Things fell again.
They fall and fall and keep falling,
but the leaves haven't yet.
Like when they start falling,
start going brown and crunching,
What sense of loss
overhead and undertoe.
The Leo.
In her new season unknown.
Foreign winds impinging on her warm, lazy, electric summer.
She is elegant, but confused,
Autumn,
not knowing whether to weather warm rain and hot high suns
or chill her inheritors' hands into silk lined
pockets.
It gets darker now,
early in the evening.
The day shortening quickly.
Too quickly for a summer baby and her reliance
on the sun.
Her comfort in daylight.
The quick and beautiful month of September,
scrunched short and rushed by the last days of
August and the infringing chill of October.
The sky is so blue this time of year.
This month in particular.
Not long before it's dark at four and in the days
the sky is white and bright..
Sits at the edge
of the dock.
As the summer closes
and the small waves
lap under her legs,
She watches the glitter
at the edge of this
wood and the things
floating and thinks
about her season fading
away into the waves,
into the wind
away from her skin, her
mane, her cheeks.
And how she dreams of
having such grace as
the East coast seasons.
The Autumn came
with a confused yet somehow graceful transition.
It happened in the wee hours
of the first day of fall,
a Monday.
Things fell again.
They fall and fall and keep falling,
but the leaves haven't yet.
Like when they start falling,
start going brown and crunching,
What sense of loss
overhead and undertoe.
The Leo.
In her new season unknown.
Foreign winds impinging on her warm, lazy, electric summer.
She is elegant, but confused,
Autumn,
not knowing whether to weather warm rain and hot high suns
or chill her inheritors' hands into silk lined
pockets.
It gets darker now,
early in the evening.
The day shortening quickly.
Too quickly for a summer baby and her reliance
on the sun.
Her comfort in daylight.
The quick and beautiful month of September,
scrunched short and rushed by the last days of
August and the infringing chill of October.
The sky is so blue this time of year.
This month in particular.
Not long before it's dark at four and in the days
the sky is white and bright..
xo ac
p.s. Check out The September Issue, an intimate look into the inner workings at Vogue and the making of the infamous September 2007 issue of the magazine. I saw it yesterday evening..with such characters as Andre Leon Talley, Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington (<- amazing) leading the pack of diligent workers during the production of the 840 page issue and butting heads in the process, I think even the anti-fashionista would find the clashing quite interesting and the amount of work for one publication astounding. Thanks to my friend Joan Becker for recommending it...ciao.
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