Words that hold a connection
Steel Season
Whistling winds blow heavy,
leaves fall—
once green, now brown,
as time shifts from seven’s bright
to five’s sudden dark.
Empty skies
thicken with clouds.
Fewer hot days linger,
Florida’s humid parks trade
for thermal shirts
on a Saturday night.
Springs grow quiet.
Mugs replace iced coffee.
The binky line ends,
sunscreen smiles fade.
Hello, windbreaker nights,
pumpkin patches waiting,
a finish line drawn not in sweat,
but in crisp air and harvest light.
2025/10/4 Edited to
