Late August Waking

Summer’s work is
almost over; it prepares
to retire as

Fall comes in fresh 
to the game, crisp
as any rookie.

The two meet 
before dawn, nod 
and shake hands.

I pull the blanket
a little higher and think about
turning off the window fan.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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