It’s the finite nature
of the scene one reaches
to capture:

the rainfall steady
as a wristwatch
keeping time

at bay
a little longer,
the streetlights

double glazed
in the wet pavement
like ghosts of the past

and the piano jazz
dancing solo
from somewhere

secret down
the cobblestoned
street, almost

an afterthought
but drifting, suspended
in the foggy air

like regret
for the season
that passed you by

like a former lover
but there’s still time
if you hurry

the yellow light says
as it spills across
the steps

of the cafe
come in and sit
stay —

fall understands
loss is essential,
elemental–

but something
here is still
open

to you
if only for
a limited time.