'a million revisions'...

    So, I revised the poem in that last post. The fault was in those last two lines. It also now sports a title, which, while not essential, is often a welcome challenge.
     

On the Lookout for Fall



About the house our summer seems
a riot now of madness, all order
gone in a tangle of vines and nettles 
forcing all to cede their place, 
heat creeping slow, a garden gone
to seed, until the days grow shorter
and the slanting sun in time restores 
to dappled form each dying leaf.