I awoke to snow;
just lightly dusting all the
last bits of color.

The afternoon gray
was swept away by cold winds
stinging with brightness.

Little yellow tree
still hangs on to the last of
late autumn's bright fire.

I feel old today.
I am footsore and tired
and missing my youth.

Night falls so quickly
there is a comfort in dark
that blankets all thought.

Birds peck the sparse grass
storing up fuel for later;
I must put out seeds.

The sun is hiding
behind the grayish blue clouds-
moon's color lingers.

As dead leaves give chase,
the birds also fly away
from the coming sleep.

The lone yellow tree
hangs onto her leaves in spite
of the frost's rough grasp.

Frost Spreads veins of white-
I'm not ready for this cold;
it's here anyway.

Elegant oak arms
twist and turn toward the sky
free of their green chains.

Otto sits munching
on a bone to freshen his breath;
it's not working yet.

The cardnal is pecking
at the dead leaves in my yard-
a flame in the brown.

The leaves hurt my eyes
with their dying reds and browns;
bit of a hangover.

The pink of sunset
touches the newly bare trees
with a lover's hands.

The stars are closer
now that the skies are changing-
no leaves to hide them.

Pockets of dead leaves drift
in the flotsom of the rain
ushering fall out.

The tree outside my
kitchen window stubbornly
holds on to its green.

Coppery oak leafs
rustle in the evening breeze,
whispering secrets.

An icy, cold rain
keeps me huddled near the fire,
dog and tea at hand.

The light is tilting
throwing sideways shadows on
winter's near approach.

The view is clearer
now; the trees show lovely bones
and the sky's stark blue.

The leaves scatter to
weave a carpet on the ground
of crunchy colors.

Last day of beauty-
I fear the rain is coming
to wash away fall.

The red maple is
like sitting under stained glass
that moves in the wind.

The wasp is dying;
its faint buzzes and shutters
echo in the loft.

The leaves on the ground
swirl around like confetti-
late autumn's party.

The calm, slow Evening
watches as the sun goes down,
taking its sweet time.

Falling back again
into night as black as coal,
can't get my watch set.