by PAULINE CLEARY

as autumn winds gust
the dragonfly darts to ground
trapped between seasons –
I stand at my gate and watch
youth pass, neither child nor adult

slumping in doorways
cast adrift in city lanes
the homeless and lost –
gazing through restaurant glass
diners blink and turn away

the grate is empty
no places set at table
silence where laughter rang –
in the graveyard, fine moss threads
its way across the headstone