Poetry
Autumn Cadenza
Kenny Fries
Late afternoon and the dune pools
filled with tidewater seeping
through the sand. The light trills
on the surface. The sun turns
beige sand white; violet
shadows climb the hills.
Signs line the road, tow
zone, no parking either side, lost
in the glare. The wind strips
the trees: a nest between two
high branches—why haven't I seen
birds flying? Soon, all will be
gone, except those gulls screaming
through winter. A few weeks
and we will need this light even more.