Autumn–the leaves swirl and dance above cracked cobblestones; a scudding cloud of decay driven ever onward by the dying year’s final breath.
Autumn–a sharp and poignant tang invades the lungs, beckoning back distant, nearly forgotten memories of mulled cider and hot buttered bread.
Autumn–a creak and a croak, and the raven takes flight, his glossy feathers blue-black in the gleaming shaft of sunlight piercing the sullen clouds.
Autumn–snap, crackle, and crunch underfoot as I tread the leaf strewn walk. A long drawn breath, a pause at the lazy sweep of wings, and a single wish released.
Autumn–o to be a vagrant leaf, a scent on the breeze, or a mere feather on a raven’s wing.

Colored Raindrops

Rain Drops

I love the colors of the rain—

(you might think that odd

but I’ll try to explain…)


The glossy shine of broad black boles

The velvet emeralds of dark damp leaves

The murky depths of over spilling streams

And the rainbow wisps of fairy dreams.


The blues and grays of distant peaks

Forming ranks against the sky

Mist blurred, shrouded, silvery

Aloof, mysterious to the eye.


There’s violet too, amidst it all

In the heart of the shadows

In the deepness of the gray

Navy shimm’ring when the wind blows.


The spongy clay beneath my boots

Though mostly dark and dull

Has bolder streaks like maple leaves

With amber swirled and rolled.


Sometimes there is gold as well

Amid the colors of the rain

Through rifted clouds, when I glimpse…

the gleaming sun again.