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By John I. Blair

In this southern clime
One day seems like the next.

Time passes

A subtle shift of light,
A sudden chill,

Star patterns
Changing in the night,

Blackbirds forming
Swirling flocks

That drift like smoke
When I drive by.

And finally
One morning

Instead of sullen heat
I meet a biting blast,

Browned blossoms
On chrysanthemums.

Summer blends
To autumn into winter.

Then come spring dreams
And round I go again.

2006 John I. Blair

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Name: Bruce Clifford Email:
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