Shift

For when lightning blitzes

our atmosphere past bedtime

for when thunder rebounds

haltingly then boomingly

for when the gust blazes

rattles everything from door

knobs to overhangs to

the bushtit in the holly

for when drops crash

resolutely into windows

into quivering gutters

for when we wake the morning

after and inhale then

inhale again

scent of spice and fresh

promise of autumnal good sense

scene of calm and comfort

for we know we have

arrived in the season of shorter

nights of sweatpants and

sweaters matched or mismatched

apples waiting to be picked and those

who have impatiently let go and dot the

green-again meadow

when flashlights make a comeback

and fleece blankets and we hold hands

in the evening while the snappy breeze

grabs us by the neck and shout-whispers

did you miss me?

Bite of salt spray on our tongue

nostrils vibrate with pine

well-past its prime jasmine

and seaberries shouting to be picked

We then inquire subtly into the subtlety

of the universe

into the subtlety

of us