early early autumn mornings

early early autumn mornings

(or maybe late summer)

on the cusp between seasons

   

stars emerge from humid fog

and wink at the hint of dawn

while crickets strike a slower song 

 

dull blue cloud bows to creamy yellow line

over dusky dry corn fields

where geese dance in mime

  

hanging tobacco wafts sweet

from open barn slats

near creek beds that splash faces cool

 

and a lone morning glory

on a splintered fence post

awaits a beam, prim and bashful

  

on early early autumn mornings

(or maybe late summer)

God’s hand ends… and begins

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