signals the fall

 

I sit here

waiting on the rain

singing praises to the gods

of the south wind

and monsoonal moisture

i lament

my poor guitars

every neck and bridge

in need of adjustment

all the stings

old and oxidized

(my new band name)

devoid of any

subtle overtones

sitting is the call

the beach traffic suddenly morphed

into school traffic

the sirens emphatically absent

the northern hemisphere

edging closer to that line

that signals the fall