October Trip to Town
The first few flakes of snow
float down as we wash and fold
our white summer clothes.
Later, we sigh as we pass by
store shelves laden with candy corn.
That’s another “no-no” now.
We pause where pumpkins
are lined up outside the EXIT door.
We remember those we used grow.
The older gentlemen, in his white shirt
and black slacks – he’s a bag boy now –
pats my shoulder, says, “I know, I know.”
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.