there is always an empty space between seasons

there’s a great deal of space near the beginning of fall-time.
all that summer was has shrunken in its skin and molted,
and left behind a great aching space that the fall has not yet filled.
it feels that the only way to occupy it again is to lie down in the grass, now cool with the burn of the sun, and breath the crisp air and feel how it scorches your throat like smoke and wind your fingers around and into the leaves to hear them crackle,
and then slowly, slowly, the space will be filled until it is near overflowing
and fall will have come.

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