As She Walked Out One Morning Poem by Vincenzo Manuel

Clouds are out, but they’re polite.
They share the sky with the sun.
Together, they tint her vision.

She’s overcome by a blissful breeze
It urges her to slow her feet.
She hears a car hum down the street,
Like a rich bird. She’s content.
She’s got no one to meet.

All I can do is swoon,
Detail the feeling while I can.
The falling leaves are like man
Both loose color and decay,
Despite the best laid plan

Wind strikes me, fills my shirt.
November is a time of change.
Yet the feeling is not strange.
An annual appointment
to witness autumn’s range.