by Kevin T. McEneaney
for Linda Kinney
The pleasures of Autumn roll in slowly
with a cool breeze from the northern mountain
as leaves fall green, red, yellow, speckled brown.
Last blue bloom of alpine scutellaria
sings of idyllic summer escapades
by stream, expanse of lapidary lake.
Morning dew lays heavy in shortening days,
grass no longer grows, toes and feet grow cold,
firewood stacks like enormous matches.
Shrubbery whittles thin, tall trees grow gaunt.
Apples brim in bin, scent of kitchen quince.
Urge to stroll painted landscape grows acute.
Winter will freeze fraught memories of Fall
while Spring will extinguish flame-red leaf.
