Temporal Space

Days are shorter,

nights longer.

Moonlight more magical,

Sunshine angling better,

illuminating the space between

September and November.

Great golden shafts,

soft, sustained silver glow.

Crisp and cool, bright blazing blue

backdrop behind Bradford pears, dogwoods, oak, birch, and elm

weaving crimson and clover, aubergine and orange

into a canopy over the copse,

mosaics in the sky and on the ground.

Everyone plays dress up—children, trees, adults, and dogs

among the pumpkins,

the wide open evening peeling away years

like the husk of a pomegranate,

revealing jewels waiting to be devoured.

Renaissance.

This apex of autumn is a room with a view,

quilts of color shimmering in river reflections and refractions,

Canoes and kayaks sluicing through the sky,

free candy filling the front porch,

homecoming dreams,

kings and queens,

fairy rings swirling leaves in the breeze.

Funnel cakes, popcorn, candy apples, and cotton candy,

the air of the fair

blows through town and adolescent Lancelots

conquer the midway

to lay treasure at the feet of teenage Guineveres.

For thirty-one days,

we all wield Excalibur

and live in Camelot.