The change has come,
the long summer is ending
through dim weekend
of rain, and walking
in the dusk I feel it
in the breeze, hear it
in the sound it makes
as it goes caressing
the trees, absently tearing
leaves from the brances,
scattering them, slowly
upon the unwithered grass
and the brown gravel
and the black mud
under my feet.
I smell it, the autumn,
in the wind, the edge
of the chill
of the days to come,
a blade being sharpened
to cut the withering
dress from the landscape,
leaving it bare and barren
as the white shroud
is cast under the endless
gray of clouds,
before the starless
winter darkness.
30.08.2026
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