Part I of Indian Summer

Slowly, The air fills with blue, and the greens catch fire The hammerlight of Summer With little mouse-steps, Steals off into apricity. I divide my days Between wine and responsibilities As a child divides his Between play and obedience. The time itself, at its best, Is wine to me, Full of light and flavors Vying for my attention. The aptly named Sept/ember Ignites itself against the skies And sets my thoughts asmoulder; The inspiration I have begged and badgered To arrive, does so at last By its own rule, on its own clock In the deep of the night While I should be asleep. I awake, Dreams close behind my shoulder, And find myself at this crossroads, Inexorably older.