Morning Program

The same program
but no repeated episodes,
on this screen porch
for three months running
I’ve breakfasted
with cup of tea in hand
as a rotating cast
of clamorous birds and
flowers in bloom
kept me fully entertained.

Late September
finds dawn blurry eyed
with the sticky
static of autumnal fog
muffling sound
and color indistinct as
an organic scent
of diminishing returns
fills the airways
like some tired rerun.

Camera turned
and summer canceled
when I take my
place before the screen
with darkness
reflected back at me,
come October,
under the stark glare of
a solitary bulb,
I will become the show.

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