The sky is
Marbled this morning
Like a fatty
Steak or Piazza
Flooring streaked with
White showing age
Large god like
Foot prints dig
Heavily into its
Blanket of grayness
Like lumbering giants
Wobbling home from
The bar morning
Sun is only
Seen through slits
Like a lone
Lamp through blinds
I think while
Sipping black coffee
Watching steam rise
Off the pond
Like waiting locomotives
Autumn has arrived
In the south
Bringing crispness like
That very first
Very sweet crack
Of an apple
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 