A Fall’s End

Leaves tumble down
tumble down they do
thrown to the ground in slow motion
they go as fast as a train
through the eyes of an ant.

Lemon yellow leaves long and thin flutter
around and around in a pinwheel descent.
Red maple leaves hang on the still air
generations of tiny things could live there
before a final kiss of the ground.

The sycamore paves the forest in gold plates
a nest for snuggling chipmunks and squirrels.
A long needle twirls down from the lofty pine,
an amber rosin blanket
tucking in the shrubs for the winter.

A hare nibbles on spent summer flowers,
hanging dry, still, dead – grey as her fur.
The carrots in the garden are gone,
hidden away in the cellar,
food for mouse and man.

A red vixen peers out of her hole,
between the roots of a lofty chestnut,
amid the spiked nut casings and
brown, brown waxy leaves.

The chilled air is winter wet
soon the snow will come
the land will slumber deep
robed in white, not unlike bones.

A fat bear ambles by hives a’tilt.
Beekeeper is gone as are the bees.
A rubber ball and upturned rake lay
unemployed and unwanted as so many stay.

Finches eat seeds and huddle amid branches
while a cat’s tail whisks in anticipation.
Somewhere a dog barks and breaks the peace.

The moment is lost
as the first flakes flutter down
to blanket the wood.