around my feet, left silhouettes
chalk-outlines on the cement.
The wind shoved through trees,
grabbed leaves from the ground
spun them up invisible staircases.
Birds chattered like spring;
there were even some tardy
purple azaleas lining raked lawns.
It was crisp sunshine. Somewhere
pretty children were modeling
Halloween costumes and perfect smiles,
swinging between model mothers
and fathers: uncomplicated
picture of nuclear autumn.
The whole neighborhood
wouldn’t shut-up: a miserably
picturesque bustle of October.
I kicked at the leaves,
bit my lip and prayed
for a
long winter. 
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