September beneath blazing illumination
Trees green with height, frail and brittle.
Stubborn to drop leaves in absolution
this is the Fall of California.
The unseen autumn, or most of it little.
No cold crisp of sunrise
Scarecrows hang with looks of doubt
No piles of leaves to jump about
Only sweat and heavy sighs.
Dear California, Confused and Insane
Close away the light
The burning seasons of migraine.
Don’t make me travel to Maine
All I ask for is raging rain.
Inspired by Robert Frost’s poem, “My November Guest”