First Hints

First Hints

Are we too, to be blown into Fall?

This quiet transformation from a summer,

Of heat and relief patented across,

Weeks in succession.

New mornings taking longer to appear,

Almost tranquil, limpid of light,

As the grip of summer,

Teasing in its reluctance, relinquishes its might.

Great winds surge across the South.

As we sit in park’s dappled light,

Children play, shrill their voices, below

The leaves above that soon will fall.

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peter radley