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 […]Read more "Autumn Wind"
The promise of winter rides the charging wind. Dark clouds pace the sky, prophesying doom. The weeping willows wail and thrash in protest. Leaves, by the thousands, jump—a frenzy in slow motion— then rush the streets with panicked footfalls to escape. Not me. I read the signs like letters from a friend, and smile, knowing […]Read more "A Blustery Morning"
The perfect night— a soft rain serenading; the street ashine with lamp light; the leaves stretched out, lazy, on the grass; and I, quiet on the porch, sipping on delight. –Read more "An Autumn Night"
Blow, gentle wind, blow— across the burdened trees, and bend the branches low. The fury of the sun scorched what he had won before his reign was done. And all the leaves are charred and doomed, but clinging hard to the life that left them scarred. Fall, weary leaves, fall, so the wind […]Read more "Surrender"
I wonder sometimes after wind blows through the trees, racing with the leaves, playing with the branches. I wonder—did the trees know the wind was there? Did the wind know she was not seen? […]Read more "Invisible"
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 […]Read more "Autumn’s Oracle"
Changing winds tousling trees, leaves that jump and run the streets, pumkins and spice and football and Keats, blazing sun–90 degrees.Read more "October"
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 […]Read more "The Golden Leaves"