The rain had dried up –
every drip, every puddle –
but Hillie couldn’t go out
while her room was a muddle.
Mom had been clear, and
her dad had agreed,
“First... [+]
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?
Tony