Sept 22

In Guam beneath the harvest moon the heavy raindrops fall
upon the trembling palm-fronds as the taotaomona call;

In Michigan the air feels brisk, the green leaves start to turn;
the windows shut, and on the hearth a fire begins to burn.

In cool Carmel the evening mist comes creeping on the land,
the restless gray Pacific breakers crashing on the sand.

Seattle gloom: no moon shines through the everpresent clouds,
as on the sound great vessels loom and slip through foggy shrouds.

New Orleans' streets, dark mysteries and lonesome spirits roam,
but in the bars, they'll party 'til the Saints come marching home.  
  
And down in Houston, summer's heat still clings to street and wall, 
but through the oaks a soft breeze whispers hints of coming fall.

Now Guam's first autumn sunset, and the moon begins to wane:
how many months will pass until we see you all again?