Fall Leavings

Canada comes,

Cooling the Blue Ridge leaf by leaf,

Bronze, copper, and scarlet flame

While the morning moon burns white in blue.

Umber splotches rosy dogwood,

And birds snatch at candy-berry clusters.

My face upturns to catch the sun’s glow

Through lidded eyes.

The wind stirs twigs and branches,

Brushing leaves back and forth,

And a dry rain falls,

Golden.

Early frost pales the trees and

Thins chirping, buzzing, whirring

Call-and-response night song.

I mourn the rasping choir.

I look for the farmer’s geese,

Snowy flecks in a browning field.

But he has sold them,

And the pasture gate swings, half-open.

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