i remember asking her:
would you close the blinds on a sunset?
of course i didn't know
what i was asking

but now that old man turns his back
to the window not to soak in
the last setting sun of summer
not realizing it doesn't matter
he's about to drink in his own end anyway
in the fading glow of his last cigarette

the wind catcher on the porch slows its spin
the red and orange and yellow
motionless ribbons starkly separate
as time grinds
to a
stop

a magical
momentary
suspension

then
tinkling keys on a toy piano
a laugh slips through parted lips
a breeze exhales through the leaves
a warm, bright moon to usher
autumn, at last,
set in motion