Flux

Autumn on the cusp,

crickets mute fiddling,

birds&squirrels scrap 

for crumbs,

weeds wild, unplucked,

foliage paused

awaiting briskness,

temperature gauge falls,

moon one shade bluer.


Losses,

endings

I cannot fix.

In my dreams,

their voices--

drag,  

shift, 

frighten, 

free.