quenched

i did not mean to say goodbye
only…
perhaps my boots did
having some mystic yearning
for autumnal perambulation and perturbation
for resolution beyond words
it is hard going
being abandoned by quality footwear
and i always was one
for ruthless equinoctial cleaning
putting the house in order
sending spiders scurrying
as the sun slides south
and days grow mercifully short
in any case
this garden was well-grazed
summer dalliance turned
favorite haunt of fattened groundhogs
and even they have waddled on to winter berth
all dog days desires quenched
but the soft brush of romantic watercolors
grows wan as years grow long
and youthful dreams
lose their luster
as september rains patter through the night
twas only a matter of time
but i did not mean to say goodbye
only…
i did