[18/52] lethargy

As September’s nights grow
longer and longer, larding on
harvests of autumn bleakness,
the late summer mornings don
shrouds of summer-mourning,
sunless except for the promise
of dawn trudging this way
from over the eastern rise.
New day reveals itself then,
not in light, because light
is something of yesterday
and the not yet today.
No, my awakening is in
the warmth next to me,
which is my everseason now.

4 thoughts on “Everseason

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