Autumn Fences

Dusk is the flag of autumn.
Golden darkness comes early
attached to a cold nip of wind
blowing just beyond the
last warm embers of summer.

An old man struggles along a
village sidewalk with his cane.
The first leaves skip across
a yellowing lawn.

Suddenly,
the piercing sounds of laughter
peal from a schoolyard across the street.
Kids running back and forth willy-nilly
and it’s so funny –
the fences they build to hold childhood in,
keep an old man out.

The flag of autumn rises early;
darkness touches dusk
the mundane worries of supper
enter the old man’s mind,
he is missing the filter
of summer’s optimism.