autumn in august

 a week now of mist, cool nights

morning dew bedecking spider webs

sparkling between blades of grass

until mid-morning

from green, leaves’ shifts of orange

then crumpled brown without even

trying on reds or yellows

let alone spectacular pinks, lavenders

or comely blues in which to greet

growling thunder or lightning’s

quick brilliance, with or without

fire-suppressing rains

yet forecast promises sweltering

heat’s return though probably not again

july’s triple digit dome of oppression

gentle oregon’s moderation unsure

as though it could no longer

read the calendar