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WALKING THE `HOOD
by Reva Griffith
It's early fall
And I'm walking the 'hood,
Checking it out.
Workmen scamper about rooftops,
Replacing shingles
Before chilly winds ride in.
And painters on tall ladders
Brighten the houses
With new winter coats.
Squirrels dash madly about
Stashing winter treasures
In secret places.
Summer, holding her hot breath,
Lies waiting to rise again,
Yet, there's something in the air,
A sharpness, a quick gust of wind,
That tells me summer may be back
But her days this year are few.
In the yards the grass is still green
Nourished by end of summer rains.
But the bright banks of flowers are fading,
Their stalks growing brown and dry.
The chill of fall is close at hand
And gray November days
Will follow.
—Reva Griffith
October 1999
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