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