as they clatter down the street--
it is in the sycamore bark,
and the last blooms of summer,
ragged, pendulous, and nearly forgotten--
it is in the way everything darkens
and a cool, gray wind blows
and swallows the sun--
it is the trouble with autumn.
Vandals strip the shutters
from the abandoned Fun House door
and use the faded wood to build
wheels that set the night in motion.
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