she kisses everyone-
the relentless roosters
The copious coconut trees
The brown-backed surfers
In Hawaii the sun makes the warm cloudy mist rise from the ground
Here the morning mist is the gloomy cold gripping greedily to car exhaust.
My skin is not kissed but freeze-dried
A brief stripe of warmth intermingles with the cold breeze. Car exhaust? Or the last fighting gust of summer?
Or perhaps my imagination.
The sun has given me the cold shoulder.
I look up
The sun has a different job here.
She is an artist
Who has painted the mountain with her morning light
Until it glows with pride in a hundred shades of orange and yellow.
I forgive you, Fall.