by J.P. Celia
“More great weather Wednesday”
A Florida autumn isn’t what you want.
The trees are prudish and the nights are warm.
No ghost or poet would seek out to haunt
A palm tree forest in a thunderstorm.
A Florida autumn isn’t built to please.
It’s merely summer in November dress.
Just lift her skirt up past her knobby knees;
You’ll find hot August in a sultry mess.
A Florida autumn? A complete disgrace.
There is no cider, and there is no stew.
Retirees garden and bronze children race.
The only smoke is from a barbecue.