dusk

 
when the rain clears we go out to buy buttermilk and eggs,
the crisp air brushes our cheeks, but we're warm in our layers
(especially you in the sling), chattering about the season,
crumpling leaves underfoot, then gazing at how quickly
the setting sun turns buildings to gold...
there's no prejudice in our neighbourhood with the covering of autumn -
she patterns manicured lawn and unkempt path,
smooth render, flaking paint, abandoned car -
with amber hues, haunting
and beautiful.