In Summer’s Room

September, and Autumn creeps
into Summer’s room. So many
dresses—green, shade upon
shade—too many. The young girl
wants something richer for the cream
of her skin and the sweep of her dark
hair. She fingers an oak leaf
imagining herself dancing
in that shape, fiery, across the hills.
She smiles. Yes. That will do.

—Nils Peterson

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