Tis a world of layered clouds of
a dazzling blue and white light.
The sun struggles to break through.
Silouettes of slim twigs reach out,
fluttering in the stillness
of the November morning.

This is the world between seasons
where carpets of leaves lie
very still on the sidewalks,
waiting for gusts of winds.
This is a dimension where it neither
feels like autumn nor winter,
where the clouds take over the skies,
even the city skies,
and display continuous light shows
that even sidewalk gazers notice.

A lone black bird,
very large, walks along,
not as afraid as most birds.
I can almost sense him sitting on my shoulder.

The last leaves drop.
Packs of dark birds swoop by ever so quickly,
somewhat ominous in the skies.

It is a mysterious time,
this world between seasons.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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