Benediction

Mid-September
The air feels like August but smells like fall.
Baring my shoulders one last time, the sunlight falls over me like Holy water
And as I walk the crunch of the first fallen leaves rises up like a benediction.
This is my temple, where I kneel to a higher power
I plead with my God to give us a few more warm days
Before the cool, rushing winds blow out the fire in our hearts.
Our lives are so fragile and fleeting, not unlike the warmth
Or the leaves that turn to dust at my step.
Fall approaches like the reaper
And we all beg for just one endless summer.