Summer’s Cruel Retreat

“I wander lonely
as a cloud”
through dark and starless
a September’s night
the cool of aging summer’s
caressing my naked arms

I should have brought my sweater.

Marching on
toward the light
Kenmore Square
in my sight
arms’ counterpointing
rhythmic swing
to unintended
goose-like steps
a playful cadence
marks the beat

I knew! before opening that fucking email that I couldn’t do anything to resolve this problem before morning. Now I’m angry, distracted, it’s fucking late, and I probably won’t be able to sleep.

Foreboding chill
of an imminent
autumnal arrival
on its heels:
February slush

A sign reads: Whom will you make peace with today? Not winter I assured myself cantankerously.

A shadowy creature
lurches past
my delightfully wafting
leather-clad left foot

A fucking rat? No, not that!

But a brave and lonely
frightened urban hare
staring me down
panicked eyes meeting mine
wildly pulsating
wiry-haired chest
visibly fibrillating
plotting his options
for impossible escape

What a strange, incongruous site, to cross paths with this timid cotton-tailed creature plodding along dark and bustling a Boston street; ecological efforts working too well.

I hop along
in light-hearted solitude
much like my skittish
leparidae friend
my hind legs propelling
my poetic evening stroll
up and away
taking flight
soaring high and far
summer’s cruel retreat

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