a golden autumn day

the golden autumn’s eye rises slowly

and with a crispness in the air
it shimmies off fields of grass
the earth landscape is crystal lined
as the dew freezes in the cool of night
the croaks of toads no longer heard
the crickets sit silent and the cicadas
have left harden shells for toddlers eyes
to ooh and ah and somewhere tiny hands will
carry them into classrooms to scare the others

the rumble and the squeal of brakes, the flashing

amber and red lights fill the darkness of the morning
on the corners of suburban streets  
little feet begin to climb up rubber lined steps
inside the large lemon yellow wheeled capsule
that will transport them to brick façade edifices
inside are marble floors of long corridors, echoed
sounds of slamming locker doors and that pernicious
Pavlov’s ringing bell, the call for the gathering of
marching feet, collecting into designated rooms and
the sounds of scurrying squeaking soles of tennis shoes
leaving eerily, barren now, the soon to be hallowed halls  

distant from where this all began in suburban streets

smoke is billowing from open garage doors where
cars sit idling waiting for the hot cup of coffee
to be placed atop the hoods or roofs of Fords, Chevys,
Buicks or Hondas and the ‘puters’ are slid into back seats.
for some there’s waving of their partners looking out
the front window or front door steps holding in their arms
the smallest of their progeny to say their diurnal goodbyes
as the car backs out onto the street to battle and maneuver
through jamming streets of cars and trucks, horns and
blinking lights, journeying on to their offices or cubicles
where commerce begins and for some a good beginning of day
and outside the yellow eye of day now hangs at eight o’clock.