The scent of Autumn

grey skies fall as
leaves drift through empty streets,
tear drops stain the road



Inside I sit, desk piled high with papers, I don’t want to read, don’t want to see, don’t want at all. I stare solemnly, watch slate skies dissolve. Like Newtons cradle the rain falls in rhythm. Soft ball bearings knocking at the door. I welcome the distraction. Watch the rain run, making decisions, changing it’s course. How I wish I could change this. Change what happened. Change us.