soft light now
just before the sun slips
into an imagined sea
apricot grasses,
the colours of September
when the heat lifts
from your sorrows
could it be the quenching
of all thirsts when the first
leaves give up their summer?
i love the absence of crowds,
overnight, and the chill before the
same light returns
soon apples will fall into
your eager hands
and the blue-dusted grapes
spin like worlds in your eyes
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