End of Summer- 1965 (unpublished poem)

End of Summer

Autumn, harlot of the year
wanders past September shadows;
a coarse crisp whisper;
her breath, a steel blue wind kiss
on eyelid and cheek;
her touch a harvest moon lips
on forehead
her bare chill feet rustling
leaf carpet
as she creeps in to be my bedpartner.

Jack Purcell