On the cusp of Autumn
We dare to beg:
On brittle leaves already colored
Dull yellow, gold and red.
On forest-fire smokescreen,
On eerie orange sun
Casting shadows in shades of pink.
Rain down on day-long dusk
Wash ashen scales from purblind eyes
On the parched spirits
Of dreamers curled up into themselves
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Remove the smokescreen of words
That splays their spirits waiting
To be sacrificed on the altar of American jobs.
© Rita h Kowats 9-7-17
Photo Credit: J&V Photography