The hissing snow is the
On a quiet grey-skied day.
The aural orchestra of
Millions of crystals
Crashing to the ground
Now the seasons are running down
Cooler weather has come to town.
Soon the trees will be colored brightly
And windows will be opened nightly.
To let the cold air of fall inside
And under blankets and quilts, we’ll hide.
Then comes the night when once a year
Children dress to cause terror and fear
They parade around the neighborhoods
To collect all sorts of goody-goods.
They mingle with other witches and monsters
There’s no way to tell the real from imposters.
Then when they are all tucked in tight
And their dreams are filled of creepy delights
Do the goblins and witches fly away home
To wait another twelve months to roam.
Every living species is invested
In the same effort
To stay cool.
Standing outside in the
Heavy, heated air
It is so quiet.
The loose folds
Of my blouse
Billow in the weakly
The rest sticks to the
Surface of my body.
I retreat to the cool
Darkness of my home
And try to regain my
Ability to breathe
Which the oppressiveness
Of the open air has
Stolen from me.