Lord of Autumn

Lord of Autumn, You enchant us with Your skill for taking summertime with such majestic grace. You lend Your royal colors to the wooded hills. You stain the sky impassioned blue above our place, and with the breeze, You stir the fallen leaves to run. You make of loss a paradise when You are near […]

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Autumn Wind

The haunt of autumn seems so close to home that whisky ghosts of dying summer breeze now tickle heat and steal away with cold and, playful, bear their laughter through the trees. – It seems a world more sharper than the light opens up amid the falling leaves— a sound like crunch! And snapping crunkled […]

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O earth—friend—how nice you look today— your soft, pink blankets spread across the sky, inviting with the gentle touch of dawn. Your brown and rusted leaves you flag-like fly, a kindred spirit calling me to stay.   Do you know how much I want to stay?   My whole heart withers as I step away— […]

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Autumn’s Oracle

It flits like wind: the many plated fall that haunts the hollow echoes  of the trees. It sits in gloom, the ever-darkened hall of piney bowers bending in the breeze. – And far away, approaching on the air, the mountain smoke-streams:  hard, and sharp as spite. Severest winter— soon to come and tear aside the […]

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Changing winds tousling trees, leaves that jump and run the streets, pumkins and spice and football and Keats, blazing sun–90 degrees.

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Autumn Equinox

Black crow sitting on the ghost branch caws, white horse running up the hill. Half-baked pumpkin in the window sill, old brown buggy in the stalls. – Corn silk spotted in the sun’s last gleam, Wolf dog lying on the floor. Rusty shovel by the screened in door grey paint dying like a dream. – […]

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The Golden Leaves

The golden leaves have fallen now— cracked and brown and dying, swirling in the autumn air that slips around me, sighing. All that’s left of a youthful dream, conceived in winter’s wait and born beneath the sun’s warm gaze when all the trees create. So soft—the pink and white unfolding— blossoms on the trees that […]

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On aged and crispy pages of September, She loves to write her name with sweet finesse, In long and swirling script around the trees; Unseen, but not unfelt, just as the breeze That forms the flutt’ring train of Autumn’s dress– An auburn trail, enchanting to remember.

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