Saturday Morning Reflection

As I posted yesterday, Autumn (Fall) brings out the poetic side of my, no pun intended, nature. My Mom use to say that she saw me being happy as a “13th century monk, donkey in hand and making his rounds through the English countryside, communing with nature and trying to bring about a little goodness.” The older I get, the more I think she had been right. So in the “spirit” of that, might have been monk, here’s another poem for a Fall morning.

Autumn’s Reflection

Winter’s cold touch
lies hidden in the months to come,
yet in the gusts of Autumn
one senses the icy presence
lurking near.

Soon scattered leaves become a quilt
of many hue’s in a mosaic splendor.
Acorns fall upon the ground
as squirrels reap the harvest
and prepare for times ahead.
Chipmunks hurry to and fro,
their cheeks puffed full
and everywhere the eye beholds
color to adorn the majesty
of earth.

Soon the gilded trees
will stand bare to the breath
of Winter.

Soon the rushing winds
will turn to howls and drifts of snow,
but for now,
it’s Autumn,
that season which gives us pause
to reflect upon the months past
and the few to come.

*You can find my complete manuscript of poetry at All Alone In A Crowd