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Autumn did not come this year
by Michele Hartman


             there is much conjecture and rumination
as to why
but it is hard to focus
the heat a dead weight.
The fall, a time of holding things close
arms filled with corn cobs, pumpkins
groceries for family meals.
I hold nothing
need the air to circulate
freely around me, no more hugging
not even air kisses
the effort is too much.
We do not touch
sleep far apart on moist sheets
their pale blue forget-me-nots wilted.
Winter will not come with its gaiety
hot chocolate and snuggling before fires.
There is a great deal of blame and finger
pointing over global warming, lack of autumn.
All I know for sure is that hell on Earth
is not a figure of speech
for I have received a life sentence.


 

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