Like leaves, those who can’t find home
scatter. Mangy dogs crane necks,
sniff for the dank smell of shelter.
Twilight falls on my porch swing
and into my coffee cup,
flutters up again with the steam,
orange against the night.
Autumn waiting
Published by
Patrick Dobson
Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination. View all posts by Patrick Dobson