Days of fire-walk sand
and berry bliss
surrender to
a cool October breeze
and Autumn's paintbrush
has answered Nature's invitation.
Seasons of my New England
place me amidst golden grass
and fickle leaves
debating in passionate tones of red.
Yellows eventually persuade their shades as they float down,
I can almost hear them smile
when the wind spins them like a Latino woman
in a scarlet salsa dress twirling around her lover.
Once they have found the ground,
their vibrancy fades to a rusty brown.
Their journey is complete.
When light escapes the day's embrace,
stars seems somehow more distant,
as if colder air has pushed them
a little farther away.
A white streak
scratches the black plain
and a gift crawls into my mind.
What in life do I wish to change?
Auburn is a perfect color,
not too vibrant and not too dull.
Things can always be added to my heap of nuts
stored inside my thick oak tree,
but nothing need be taken away.
So come Autumn,
strip the hovering trees
of their conversing leaves,
but let them live in fiery tints of red
for a week out of the year.
Consistency breathes with
the changing Earth,
so let your season
come as a reward
to all those who marvel
at Nature's paintbrush
and gratify Her noble work.
