Autumn

L.T. Garvin

Autumn

you are

at once hot-handed

shifting gears in your

blustery boots

November was singing

like a spoiled canary

prodding us

away from

sunny windows

threatening us

with an awkward

northerly chill

this blatant wind

skulking and snatching

tossing up

a hissy fit

passing the mandate

on to winter

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