, , , , ,

Overcast, subdued, a preview of Fall
fills the air with a sense of silence,
Even as emerald swathes the hills
it is easy to picture Maples
draped with new flame.

Wild geese will soon vee, merely ritual,
Now they winter here, comfortable
with abundant corn, greens grown for their
pleasure. Ancient instincts
for migration are stilled

like this world waiting for Technicolor
of turning leaves, dying vines, pumpkins
rotund in their ripeness,  silently
hoping to be chosen;  for a pie
or a child’s

first jack-o-lantern, the best on the block.
Ev’rything has dreams, even August
on still days when the silence suggests
seasonal change, an awakening ..
before the sleep.