september first arrived
for the people of the summer heat pleading into winter
where cooler heads button coats and shuffle the sidewalks brand new
where the stars are more clear than they had been
and the bar's piano ringing from even further away
not quite yet cold but beckoning clarity like prayers
where wind refuses to sleep
and where we find ourselves within arms of solace
rendering us conscious of what is truly warm
beyond weathering noise the sounds are so pure they echo
and the cold compels us unlike other moments
amidst it bound to complain
yet aching for it again when it passes