Poetry

Black and white photograph of trees in a swamp, one bend over across the whole frame

Cleopatra rolled up in a rug
smuggled in to see Caesar
worming her way into infamy
Every day the light is changing
Slyly summer transforms
little by little into autumn
such small moves
we hardly even notice the fall

I live in central Texas, so we don’t experience autumn the same way many places do. That doesn’t stop me from loving it, and longing for it. Warm winters are what we receive in exchange.