Its number of days matches other ones,
but Fall seems shorter than brother seasons.
Though the calendar gives it ninety suns,
to me it feels like less for some reasons.
Maybe it’s because the days grow shorter
and I know what’s coming makes me shiver.
So Autumn feels briefer than a quarter
of year running like a my life’s river.
That shivering’s not just about the cold
that Winter’s bringing to us all too soon.
I think it’s because now I’m getting old,
my own calendar page turned long past June.
So that’s why I fight each new page’s fall,
one leaf nearer to the end of it all.