Without My Permission

by Estelle Bruno

The summer’s extended absence

Without my permission

Winter – an aching void in my bones

Drain the pipes, cover the pool

Rain –

A squirrel drowns in a puddle

On the pool cover

Without my permission.

Where has the fruit wagon gone? Indivisible.

The burnt angry orange foliage remains.

I leave, lift my head high,

Remember the greening will come again.

* * * * *

"Without My Permission" was first published in The Long Islander: Walt’s Corner (May 1, 2008)