Walking across scattered pages
I hear the rustle of fallen leaves
Glimpses of diaried days and handwritten weeks
Calendar months torn until the fall
Pages left to read the months past
With years drifting in the october wind
I climb thru the trees along the ridge
Surrounded by gold and bronze
Iron cold days ahead
Soon wreathed in silver and faded memories
Autumn has come to the woods
And autumn has come to me.
The Course of Our Seasons 
Deft blending of page and season. Quite beautiful.
Tight write… // peter
love the photo — matching the words
you make this much more than autumn…glimpses of eternity in this..
“iron cold days ahead” beautiful!…as is the entire poem…I feel the chill. Great write!
This is beautiful!
Oh, wonderful metaphor here, of time and season. I love autumn, and this has the bittersweet feel of it.
“Glimpses of diaried days and handwritten weeks” is an especially lovely line. k.
Oh, those ‘iron cold days’ ahead… brrr so evocative. Time to light to fires!
autumn has come to me…that is evocative…esp after the walk through the journals…i have kept a journal for about 8 years…and sometimes take a walk back through them….
“Handwritten weeks”. That’s going to stick in my head.
Very beautiful, Kathleen.
Hi Karen – thanks so much! K
Just beautiful!
Thanks so much! K