The days get shorter
but don’t they feel longer.
Tired. Such a gray
little word.
it hasn’t rained
like this in September
in ten years they said.
Angry almost, angled
and acute.
The sloping shelters
gave us no respite.
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OPTIONAL POETRY 
“such a gray little word” so evocative. Your stanzas are definitive. Stanza 3 is great imagery. Love ending. So nice.
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Thank you!
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