Billie scuffed her flip flops through the dry needles scattered over the Christmas tree lot. Pine scent filled the air. But it felt too hot for Christmas.
“How about this one?” Her mom... [+]
Who can walk today
when leaves leapfrog across the boulevard
and swirl recklessly round each passing car?
My feet dance across the sidewalk,
exploring invisible hopscotch trails
like errant children,
crunching gutter drifts
in explosions of sap-dried
skeletons of summer.
Can’t you feel it,
the racing pulse of October?