by Jay O'Toole
The days grow shorter as the sun becomes a little bit cooler. Fall's respite comes.
The days are waning 'round the clock,
while rays are fading in the sky.
Just bidin' time to this we chalk,
"The prime is past. The sleeping lie."
Magnolia leaves of cockroach hordes,
all musty from rain's ling'ring drops,
disturbed, they scatter next shade towards,
new meals of dog food's soggy sops.
Each day comes shorter in the west,
as Sun, it's nightcap sooner dons.
"Endure more darkness," night in jest
now pricks the hearts of Earth's dirt-sons.
Each cloudy breath of cooler breeze
will teach the parch-ed tongue to rest.
The moment's respite, Peace it frees
to strengthen even more days' test.
Some beaches have no souls to sun
as studied minds return to school.
Though weekdays know a dearth of fun,
the weekends say, "The fall is cool."
by Jay O’Toole
on September 1st, 2021