Florida falls into autumn
the way you grow old:
with a sense of change you
may not see in the weather
or on your face in the mirror
or in the falling of leaves
or ripening fruit,
but you feel in an easing,
a thinning of the still hot air,
a pause in continuity.
The odor of this morning is different.
Something is changing.
Black vultures in a tree.
An osprey on white wings
screams down at us.
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