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23 September 2011

Don't be hatin'

August and September air
is blast heat to chill promise.
The outside year fades and
I feel the tug of hot cocoa,
the at-hand switch to thick sweater.
A layer of Winter fat will soon pad
but not now. The Summer swimsuit reigns.
I inhale only imagined change.

Today, leaves yet live green
and park tables still fill at noon.
But how the haze hangs in the air,
the cool hint of bite in a breath,
discomfited lungs insinuating a
precipitous fall of molecules
delving to unexplored reaches.
No longer the hot air loft,
the far-gazing heights -
a heft in my chest is missing -
and the absence
is sweet and solid promise
of holiday trinity.