September

It is a beautiful morning.
The sky is clear and the sun is out.
My yard is a mess; littered with fallen, half-grown pecans,
the grass is overgrown, twigs from the pecan tree lie everywhere

In the pool, a small branch with a few clusters of leaves
floats desultorily a few feet below the surface
as if unable to decide whether it should sink to the bottom.

In the flower pot, one tiny, tight, purple petunia bud struggles up from the tangle of leaves
that now look more like weeds than flowers
because I had long-since ceased to tend to them.

The breeze is mild...for Oklahoma
Everything is still green and the trees thickly adorned with their green canopies.

But there are some, a few, dead leaves in the grass.
And the wind conjours up for me the black and white images
of grey sky, black trees, white snow...
of the winter that crouches, waiting for its time.

It is September.