October Tenth
It’s late
to be so warm.
Still,
the leaves of
the dogwood
beside my door,
have grown
curled and brown.
The parchment
on which winter
will be written.
Unconvinced
our summer
has time,
poised to Fall,
they contemplate
whether it will
be the grass
to catch them,
or the wind.
2006 Daniel Thomas Moran