End of the Season

Invisible waves reap moisture.
Harvested condensates,
their succor a void,
curl foliage
like warped origami.
Brightly spastic,
the spindly, laughing children
sway on indifferent arms --
soon unburdened subjects
that scurry off
with the recess alarm.


11 lines

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Last year for this Autumn collection before permanent deletion from account.