Bare Feet in Fall
It is a little chilly outside this morning,
the first hints of autumn filling the air,
wafting through open windows with perfume
from the phlox planted outside your doors.
You sit. Take off your shoes. Always the contrarian,
believing somehow that seasons are more in the mind
than in the weather.
About this poem
Inspired jointly by a friend’s comments on yesterday’s poem (hi Deb!) and the woman I love.
Yes, those are my feet, long, ugly, and very functional.