POETRY
30th September
Almost October
everything is always
the cusp of an almost
a slight push into
something else
a small change but
the bones know it
Every morning the
sun tells the story
one sentence at a time
Under its light I
move through the
chapters, a rattle of pages,
a click of joints denying
the passage of time
Thank you, readers! I’ll be starting Poemtober tomorrow: anybody else??