Dawn slips in as I creep out into the
crisp autumn morning
Our resident crows have yet to stir
at this hour, no bird greets me.
the air is fresh
cool, disguising what will be a
record fall day as
nineties are forecasted
this is Texas, after all…
my step is lite
sidewalk almost cold on naked feet
no sound at all but a scent of roses
assails the senses.
Don Juan Roses, mingled with tarragon
Oh autumn, stay forever!
tennis ball sized heirloom tomatoes
tangled summer vines, join
cucumber flowers atop several tiny, new fruit.
When I turned forty,
several decades past,
I wanted to change my name to
I never questioned why…