Autumn

leaf by leaf

the hardwoods

let go of summer

cooler days;

autumn

deepens the river

the moon’s gray,

the meadow’s frost –

same shade

wild geese –

Father’s silhouette

at the pier’s end

 

a scrubbed sky –

geese depart

the roughened lake

the autumn maples;

Mother’s

rouged cheeks

autumn fullness –

my cataracts

ripening

where I’ve been

in the frosty meadow –

a trail of green

the elk’s bellow;

dusk thickens

along the river

a red oak leaf

on my shoulder

the shape of a hand

  

the dusk deepens –

cowbirds

raid the wild persimmon

on field stubble,

gliding –

the shadows of geese

cornhusking –

the old woman’s

crooked teeth

harvest moon –

the wind going about

plucking leaf from limb

 

setting sun –

a daub of my shadow

on the silo wall

shotgun on my shoulder;

walking at sunset,

the tire ruts home

graveside rain –

our grief

soaked a deeper hue

from a topmost branch, 

how slowly!

an oak leaf skims and tumbles

early autumn –

swans double-cross

the glossy lake

cold rain –

the crow abandons
a dead squirrel

cold rain –

the river carries

the woods into winter

autumn’s end –

the scarecrow

emaciated

another birthday

under the same

October moon

ice crystals 
in leaves on the rake,

this November morning

deep autumn –

lights from the house

across the ravine

autumn sky -

a skein of ducks leave

an unbroken silence

abandoned by geese

heading south –

my autumn birthday

end of autumn –

huddled closer,

the neighboring houses

light snow –

headlights weaving

through an autumn wood

autumn evening –

the silence

of ripe pears

green gives way –

half yellow now,

the red oaks

returning from the fields –

our shadows stretch

across the narrow lane

  

  

abandoned garden –

a scarecrow    

pummeled by autumn hail

autumn woods –

the smell

of last night’s rain

end of autumn  –

the scarecrow loans his hat

to the snowman

late September –

a harvest moon

dapples the oak-lined lane

sounds of autumn –

the afternoon practice

of the marching band

leaves color;

turn the sky 

a deeper blue

brisk day;

ducks on the pond

look cold

a gauge of autumn -

the leaves

in my hammock

autumn bluster –

winds push

the trees around

early autumn –

an orange butterfly

goes about its business

cold rain;

the river carries

the woods into winter

chilly day –

dead leaves gather

in the birdbath

on the patio,

the last warm day;

a sparrow joins me for lunch

withered roadside brush -

a stop sign wavers

in the stiff wind

once a year in its full glory –

the red barn

among the hardwoods

on the shadowy barn,

falling –

leaf shadows  

a windless day –

here and there, a leaf

yields to autumn

cold winds;  

dead leaves shiver

in the hardwoods

 

overgrown garden –

an autumn butterfly  

floats along the pales

luckily, I know it well –

the path 

among the autumn hardwoods

leaves have fallen,

revealing more

of the moon  

corn harvested;

bee hives visible 

at the field’s edge

a day of harvest;

walking home -

our emaciated shadows

a night of rain –

the sparrow’s morning

ablutions 

cold sunrise –

crows flap sovereignly

through the bare woods

harbor sunset –

geese leave;

the sound of the wind

autumn woods -   

following the path

that follows the river

everywhere   

above the meadow –

the Milky Way

same shades of red –

sunset,    

the turning maples 

end of autumn –

huddled closer,   

the neighboring houses

day-long rain;

I organize   

my watercolors

grandpa’s fiddle –

to and fro,   

the blue tick’s tail

toting it home with me –

the mountain

solitude    

end of autumn –   

through the hard rain,

a glimpse of the river

cold morning –

ducks    

stir the river mist

a quiet breakfast;

an autumn sun   

lifting through the hardwoods

autumn ending;

the overhead geese

press onward   

mild day –   

a leaf shadow tumbles

down the drawn shade

rainy day –   

inside the window,

a bottle fly’s buzz

fall morning –  

ahead of my skiff,

ducks take wing

boarded-up theatre –

letters missing    

from the marquee

cold day –

the last of the leaves

translucent   

fall day –  

drizzle in the bare trees

gathers into drops

end of autumn –

across the field,   

approaching rain

end of autumn –

where the leaves hung,

blue sky    

morning drizzle –

chimney smoke 

fills the holler   

end of autumn –  

coming down hard,

a curtain of rain

light rain at dawn;

a cock’s   

insistent cry

leaves have fallen –

blue mountains  

stretch eastward

its splendor portends

a bare austerity –

the hardwood grove

leaves of a lone oak

scintillating

in the brisk wind

   

autumn morning;

the passing geese

leave not a trace

autumn rain

washes the chalk

from the sidewalks  

geese have flown –

wind-patterns

on the lake

rain lets up –

reflections in the lake

become clear again

rain lets up –

a mist drifts in

from across the pond

autumn morning –

mist blurs

the lake’s reflections

sunset;   

along the footpath,

pines darken

a light rain; 

prodded homeward

by the grumbling sky

spying it as I pass –

the moon

in a street puddle

windy day;

the first flurry

of leaves  

cool morning; 

a spider on its web

sways in the wind

it’s clear tonight –

the underlit moon

a sphere, not a disc

a morning thunderstorm

rousting the old house

from sleep  

morning walk;

cobwebs made opaque

by the dew   

the dirt farmer’s

only bit of flair –

a red bandana  

the spider hanging in its web

doesn’t care

the world is upside down

gusty winds;

the grass field

a sea of green  

quiet, the boys  

on the back steps,

chewing sugarcane  

mild day; 

straight down,

the leaves tumble

morning walk;

tree trunks

divvy up the sunlight

autumn; 

the ducks leave only 

wind-patterns on the lake

first light;

a spider  

mends its net

soft silver

through the pine boughs –

an autumn moon

unknotting

the hammock ropes;

the scent of burnt leaves

early autumn;

the yellowing 

of the white oaks

after the storm;  

a warbler singing

from a broken limb

early autumn;  

my neighbor’s house

appearing in the hardwoods

he looks abashed –

the scarecrow

without his hat

cool night;  

geese cross

the moon’s face

hardwood grove;

fog mutes 

the autumn colors

scudding clouds; 

her polished casket

in and out of shadow

brisk day;

the crunch of my boots

in the autumn grove

autumn geese;

how could they have ever

flown away? 

clear water,  

a creek bed

of bright leaves

autumn sunset;

a blur of orange

behind the trees

cold dusk;

ducks honking

in the holler

cold twilight;

a moon in the treetops

follows me home

deep autumn; 

flashes of river

through the hardwoods

soft light

of dusk; 

we speak in whispers

in the east

thicket, 

a laurelled moon

salt marsh rain;

the ochre reeds

a shade darker   

forest hike; 

silver-green,

the dewy pines 

cold morning;

clouds veil

the blue mountains

quiet night; 

a quarter moon

climbing a peach tree

almost missed it –

a mere

slip of a moon 

to the east, 

a mauve sky;

the smell of rain

cold morning;

clang  

of the feed buckets

evening walk; 

the benediction

of the tall, tall trees

bitter chill;

the valley 

a bowl of fog

brisk day;  

colored leaves 

spangle the hedgerow

gray dawn; 

spooking a deer

near the north gate

among yellow leaves,

the bright red cap

of a woodpecker 

colder days; 

winds pluck bare

the hardwoods

autumn sunset;

scarlet   

mellows into gold

morning fog;

the world ends

this side of the river

thickening gloom;

voices float

across the shorn field

in the treetops

lingering,

remains of the day

cold day; 

leaves collect

in the wellspring

clear evenings;

the moon

getting fatter

hardwood grove –

yellowing hickories;

the scarlet oaks 

bright sunlight

turning the sparrow’s gray 

to silver

fogbound;

the quiet 

of the wet woods

north winds;

a daylong

tumble of leaves

the scarlet oak’s coloring –

pale green 

to chocolate brown

mounting higher,

the yellow moon

turns silver 

deep autumn; 

across the holler,

a lighted window

a rushing stream;

the footpath leads

to a fallen tree

autumn woods;

each leaf, in turn,

whispers Geronimo

rising  

from the cityscape,

a silver moon

across the lane,

shadows  

spidery as the trees

escorting me

upriver – 

the prow of a moon

morning walk; 

a light rain dampens

my hat and shoulders

clear night; 

the flare of a moon

in the autumn limbs

leaves have fallen

exposing 

the mountain’s shape

autumn’s end;

the tangle of hardwoods

in a gray sky  

loneliness;  

the trail of a raindrop

down the pane

windy night;  

a crescent moon

snagged in tree branch

a soaking rain

has blackened 

the pine trunks

more of a sunset now,

through

the bare woods

beads of rain 

like ornaments

scattered in the cedar

distant headlights

weaving

through a bare woods

through the hardwoods,

shards  

of a moon

Flitting here and there
the falling leaves,
their shadows on the pavement