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.