A September Moment


The cabin's door was ajar, through
the back window a river of afternoon
sunlight came, flooded the room ran
over the threshold, down wooden
steps and disappeared into brown soil.
Then the river narrowed became fainter,
till it was only a dusty cabin floor.

When shadows filled the room, ran
over the threshold down wooden steps
into brown soil, I shuttered the window,
lit a candle and a fire, the air had fingers
of chill in its grasp- an omen telling of
a colder future - and closed the door,
keeping the night at bay… for now.