Sunday, September 2, 2012

Hors saison

Autumn has a way
Of slowly creeping in
Though summer days
Are far from being over.
There is that turning point
Wearing a jacket off season
Cozying up around the fire
When the sky becomes so low.
Seasons are already changing
Not ever having set a date
It is a dawdling process
But no one wishes to notice.
               What a strange sensation
Like opening a door
That was never really closed
The beginning of something
That should not have even started again.