Saturday Rumble

Friday moon, sharp hung
with September's knife edge 
upon mellowed memories of
receding rubied wines;
finally surrenders to
oblivion of ink-bled night...

I nurse steamed caffeine,
cradled in the hiatus twixt
slanted summer's sun and 
cold pane of frosted autumn. 
My heart flutters once, pines
for one more butterflied day,
one more aimless meander
among August reeds gentle
swayed in tideless, trout-ridden
streams, in unfettered dreams 
of journeys yet to come.

Hungered, I drum fingertips upon
counter top, languid lie in wait to 
pounce upon your sleepy-eyed jugular,
my inner rumble ached to restrain
dying embers of unawakened love,
impatient to devour you with the
crisp crunch of this new day
for our breakfast.