The gray of November
settled into the folds of the hills,
tamping down brightly colored leaves
into fog and dark mists.
Crows cried out in greeting
when your footsteps were heard-
black feathered messengers-
oracles of your return.
As in a dream,
their cries echo across the hillside,
shouting your name
until I saw your face
and I knew.
Keepers of tales and omens,
tricksters and thieves,
the crows stole my heart
tying it in the old dead hickory
to wave and tatter
in the wind.
saturated in salmon and fuchsia
drenched morning sky
dawn drowns in color
Pretty sure its not your attitude but the way
you cross your arms that makes the crows
fly from the dead hickory and the old carp
rise to the surface of the oil glazed water. Not
a pretty picture and not too satisfying when
the gnarled pine needles sharpen and the asters
dodge the wind. So sudden the seasons
change and your scars are tattooed
across the autumn horizon, not willowy
but weary as the old oak muttering to the sparrows
about the vagaries of the north wind. What on earth
could this mood foretell? Wishing wells and copper
pennies could do no harm as the cross eyed cat
walks a fine line and drifts across the scorched red
maple leaves and into the yellowing wood.
trumpeting from the gray skies
wild geese rise from the cove
call to worship
***
majestic maples
robed in scarlet leaves
Sunday vestments
***
small boats
bob in the morning rain
heads bowed in prayer
***
mists hover over the gray water
rising to meet the clouds
morning meditation
Dull pewter skies,
sodden with autumn rain,
reflect tarnished silver
in the cove.
The landscape is the color of old photographs,
faded and worn from the years
of handling
and recollection.
Fields will soon be plowed under.
This season, this year,
will be relegated to memory-
our lives captured in faded pictures.
Heavy with rain,
the cedar boughs bow to the north wind-
their resinous pale berries
the color of coming frost.
I sweep autumn leaves from the porch
and listen to the crows caw
from across the dry meadow,
the only birds still in residence.
The trees are empty.
The birds have abandoned me.
Are there runes scraped into the bark of the cedar,
just outside the window?
‘Beware all life is fleeting, flee!’
Soon the mirrors will be covered
and voices hushed
in winters sorrow.
I miss their songs.
I miss feeling their presence-
the feathers left in my path
as if angels were near,
watching and protecting.
But the trees are now deserted-
all the winged creatures
have left.
Leaving me
alone to keep vigil
in the beginning of the fall.
October sky –
can any other color be called
blue?
Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.
The season quietly steals away
taking summer’s sun and heat.
Only to return with bluer skies-
rich autumn’s tapestry to greet.
Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.
Her colors rich in tint and hue
thru the deep woodlands are strewn.
Leaves of russet, pumpkin, and gold,
dance gaily to the north winds tune.
Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.
The light has lost its harsh intensity.
Earth’s tilt has nudged the sun
into an angle
less summer
and more autumn.
Setting the changing leaves
into a different hue
perfect for the falls rubies
and gold.
Walking the gravel path
on this last summers evening,
we talk in low voices
so as not to disturb the flowers
and the butterflies, busy
with their own seasons changes.
I am anxious to shed this summer-
its days long
and its light, too intrusive.
Autumn will cool my brow
and give my weary eyes rest
until I can sleep in winters
long dark night.
tapping on the window-
whispering thru the door-
come out, come out –
autumns here
***
golden light reflecting –
the dawn lit leaves –
hickory trees on the ridge
***
October sky –
that impossible, unbelievable, unforgettable –
BLUE
***
october wind sends leaves laughing across the road –
swirling into pirouettes of autumn color –
ballet of the season
***
clouds fall together –
pushing out the afternoon sun –
hickory leaves hold the golden light
thecourseofourseasons 