...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdsGYlMuubs

.

.

.

In the cold bustle 

Of a waning August -  

.

As leaves change 

And airplanes

Come roaring overhead,

.

As they encircle a local landing-strip 

Before touching down, having just been 

Floating, arriving, 

Departing, 

.

From somewhere far away -  

. 

As the spinning wheels of my tires 

On a twice-daily commute, reflect 

The thrice spinning wheels 

That make up the cognitive mechanisms 

That move with such subtle cogence 

Within the busyness of my mind, 

.

I find myself, drifting 

Through a slow-dawning 

.

autumn -

.

The lilt of yellowing leaves, the chill

Of those first, broken mid-mornings - 

.

Wanting after, nothing more

Than the spare time

For a listlessly roving wander

And for the space, to enjoy

.

No cause for my concern. 

.

.

.

The ease of infancy 

That precedes the stretching-pain

.

of having to grow up. 

.

.

.