near as the harsh gust
piercing my
lobes,

sharp as dusk’s bite
on the ridge of
my nose,

red not from
the candy,

cold not
of your stare,

autumn’s come
calling-

its breath in
our hair.

pixabay

summon spring,
quick!

‘fore we
fade into forget
,

winter wheezes til
shivers sieze
breath-

grinding time
forth..

sundial tilted
north.