Tags
autumn, Carla Iacovetti, creative writing, fall, poem, Poetry, Santa Barbara, seasons, squirrels, summer, sunshine, writer, writing
The morning sun shone brightly
through the uncovered paned window;
a site not uncommon this time of year.
For a moment, I had forgotten
that the season shifted, and summer
was fading to a distant memory—
but then fall in Santa Barbara
could fool a fox.
Sun glistened through trees green,
leaves swayed to breezy melodies
as temperatures rose to 80 degrees.
Everything was going along fine.
The smell of sizzling meat
on my neighbors grill
further added to my forgetfulness.
I suppose it was the gnawing sound
of teeth chattering
that woke me from my dream.
Walking toward the window,
I watched acorns rain down
from the tall tree above.
Then dashing through the fallen leaves
wide tails flashed and the sounds of loud kuks—
conversations between two squirrels
fighting over a fallen acorn,
reminded me that
summer had passed.
Copyright 2013 CarlaIacovetti