The moon wears a veil
of the palest gray, masking
her face from the night.

The oaks are changing;
the dull, glossy green gives way
to the brown of sleep.

A single ringed dove
sits on the telephone wire-
watching evening come.

I expell a breath
like a smoky cloud of fog;
a killing frost came.

Bound by gravity
my heavy feet drag the ground
tired and footsore.

the bare branches lurch
like limber dancers swaying
to the ghost of songs.

My eyes squint with tears
as my old foe the sunshine
shows me who is boss.

The ocean of light
rolls like waves on the morning
washing the day gold.

Light goes early now;
long shadows fall over the trees
reflecting bright leaves.

Arms of waving grass
whisper secrets to the wind
and sigh to the air.

Crouching in the grass
the squrriel approaches his prey-
the plumb, brown acorn.

Lost in the twilight-
moving between sun and moon,
drinking in silence.

the golden full moon
hangs around to greet the sun
and wish her good morning.

It is colder now.
I awoke to find a chill
that made blankets dear.

I am surrounded
by fall's raining showers of
sky-born confetti.

The gray brings quiet
that hangs like a veil outside;
no motion or sound.

As I watch the squirrel
busily searching my yard,
I feel quite lazy.

Rich smell of maple
and the scent of fresh mown grass
fill the autumn air.

My dog is barking-
Waking up the neigborhood
to share his loud joy.

The night falls softly,
with the hushed voice of the breeze
telling me secrets.

Red vines thread my fence
like fingers reaching upward
longing for the sky.

Shadows across the
lawn, shimmering like water-
the sun hides its face.

Clouds bring a soft gray
that hushes all sound with rain.
Quiet blankets all.

The leaves are falling.
The brightly colored raindrops
kiss the waiting ground.

The rain has found us,
gently soaking the earth and
bringing the color.

Night falls silently
with footsteps that can't be heard
no wind stirs leaves.

October 3, 2008

The sun warms my face
reminding me of summer,
and what I will miss.

October 1, 2008

A cup of hot tea
and a seat out on the lawn
to watch the leaves fall.

October1, 2008

The trees lean inward,
with their rough, crocodile bark,
thinking ancient thoughts.