The Quiet of September

The evening light comes for me,
promising rest. Summer trails off
as the earth struggles to keep
her eyes from closing.

An immense memory
the sky cannot contain
slips away like water.

Home beckons,
and the winter firelight.
My heart stills
and I fall asleep.

Michael James Fitzgerald

Author: Michael James Fitzgerald

I write, read, run, and ski.

2 thoughts on “The Quiet of September”

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