autumn in the daytime has a filmstrip quality

because everything is bleached past summer

the pumpkins in front of the supermarket are the exception, these hardy things that bloom during harvest

the sunflower groves look like they’d be satisfying to collect in one fell swoop

pressing finger into the disk

seeds tumbling down

in heavy chunks

the clouds drift just the same. do they pause more in summer?

the wind in the dry leaves sounds like a stream of water

I can see the birds and clouds through springy branches that are waving with shimmering oblong leaves

my cat with closed eyes, petting her head. when I stop, I see them opening ever so slightly

back home

I see her eyes open ever so slightly

petting her head with my finger

disturbed two birds who took off with the sound of a roulette wheel

dramatic lighting cast upwards or downwards on shared office buildings,

where flowers lean through the iron fence that I enjoy coming upon on my bike (music lessons on Lancaster)

the upper prep school windows where the lights are on. it’s a hallway and I imagine the carpet to be grey

shining between black shutters down onto round hedges

brick office buildings with square railings ascending from black office directory hangings with white adjustable lettering

amber old world lighting around back

glass paneled lanterns that glow onto stone facades

glittery rock walls filled with mulch and waxy bushes

matching la’s at the music school

crickets like sequined jewels

glowing numbers offices