The leaves are curling on the sidewalk,
Crushed in between the cracked cement.
Cool air creeps in the window
Freezing my phone case
And numbing my hands as I hit snooze.
News alerts blink on my screen,
Blurred by tired eyes without glasses nearby.
It’s that time of year again when darkness falls
Early, seeping into our lives at hours unexpected–
In between the cracked clouds before sunrise,
And the space between my headlamp light
And the end of the trail.
The news doesn’t change:
I’ve heard it many times before–
I just hope that my light is bright enough
To illuminate the paths worn about the same,
And we’ll all choose the same one
In between the slanting light and the darkness.
Otherwise, it will always be that time of year,