Autumn Coming

What else is there

to do when the pumpkin-colored cat dusted

with cold, clear night, a touch

of frost, slinks leisurely through

the oaks and maples, across

your lawn to the porch where

you're sipping summer's last iced tea

in the fading warmth? The luminous

cat with the voice crisp

as September sun, eyes

of the harvest moon. What else

is there to do but open

your arms, let it wander

slowly into your outstretched hands.

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