The Washed-out Planet is Euphoniously Shifting

The impatient wealth of autumn arrives
as if just for me.  

The air I breathe is semi-liquid 
then let loose
rogue and wolf.
I am drenched 

and dry.
My feet like 
wet cohesions.
My pre-loved coat
a shelter of leather.

I borrowed my umbrella
from a friendly stranger.

Do thoughts gleam
like phosphorescence
in the ether?

They say moon rock is a sharp dust.
She is full-hipped tomorrow.
Tonight she fattens.


_{© N Nazir 2021}

^{_{Photo by Ellie Burgin on Pexels.com}}

Written for Sammi Scribbles Weekend Writing Prompt: Pre-loved, 71 words