It doesn’t feel like winter anymo’,
but it doesn’t feel like spring yet…
<That is the feeling o’ autumn,
sneaking ’tween January & March.
¿Have you forgotten it already
dug so deep in your dank caves?
¿Did you not notice the morns
smudged out white with fog
evolving into bright yellow days
¿Have you not noticed all this month?>.
No, no, no —
It’s all wrong.
¿Where are all the colored leaves?
All I see are brumal starving barks.
¿Do you know how stupid that looks,
skeletons basking in the beach sun?
<Raise thy hair-clogged nostrils to the gray skies.
¿Can’t you smell the scent o’ cold wood?>.
That shit’s in winter.
Look, Autumnal June is 1 thing —
¿but this “Autumnal February” biz?
I’m not feeling it.
I don’t e’en remember what I feel —
it’s already crepusculing,
the hour when all the seasons lie equally black.