T H E O L D G A L
Autumn weather gets to
the old gal.
Her winter
coat predicts
the worst is yet to come
up 116th Street.
In the Palisades
the fevered colors
drive out the green,
blaze
at least
some heat
for the eye.
A patch of cotton
behind her glasses
keeps her right eye
warm and windproof.
Up the hill
she staggers
as the year grows old.
Mumbling,
"the old gal
she ain't what she used to be."