Colors at dawn

What does one say to a sky
glowing in scarlet brilliance
at this early hour, blinking sleep
casting long shadows over dreams
half remembered, if all?

These vermilion pigments dance
among clouds, warming to the idea
of another day and whatever
unwraps the blues of normalcy,
mundane. Routine.

I’ll not let this complexion slip
to ordinary, even as trees
envelop us in shade, days creep
shorter, and shadows — those

dark false realities that smooth
us out to remove a dimension
on chilly, fallow ground — lurk
behind but never catch us.

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Seasons and colors change

We walk this fall day – a few
more gray hairs than last – beneath
the leaves – rusted coppers
replacing youthful greens – clinging
to the only home they’ve ever known,
on the verge of their final voyage, that
rambling trek to what they know not.

This expedition under gray skies
takes us through the misty uncertainty
of that next great adventure, while
leaves search for courage to brave
one last tour – a change in altitude
if not attitude – of the crisp breezes
softening their descent to a new home.

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Bring me fall

Fall birthdays are the best. Balloons
seem superfluous to the colorful, animated
trees – playing backdrop for the festive
gathering of friends and family –
painted with reds and oranges and yellows.
Even the browns feel alive
before jumping to the ground,
smiling to their final resting place.

Give me red of rosy cheeks
bitten by an autumn breeze.
Give me orange of pumpkin patch playgrounds
alive with laughter.
Give me yellow of hayrides hopping
down dusty roads removing harvest’s veil.

Bring me fall. Bring me bewitching days
and crisp nights hinting
at the cold to come, burning
birthday candles lighting the way.

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The harvest moon breathes

The harvest moon breathes
deep tonight, sharing spices
from the cornucopia of pumpkin oranges
and warm apple reds
cooling in the autumn breeze
tossing leaves through the air
like cinnamon confetti celebrating
another summer’s retreat.

As squirrels snack on acorn squash
preparing for the unflinching onslaught
of gray, dull winter, I sip
on apple cider awed
by the colors of nature confident
in this moment
the moon will never exhale
and fall will never dwindle.

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Fallen leaves

Tucked beneath the fallen leaves,
autumn pokes a head out, unsure about this
particular odyssey as the fire
of one last surprising summer day whirls

among the wind and whispers of
winter mocking healthy pumpkins, waiting
with rotten thoughts of browns
before whites before whatever. For now

I’ll hide myself underfoot among those
crunchy reminders of winter’s ephemeral
whimsy while I taste sunlight’s sweet
sting, dusk closing its eyes at last.

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