Many thanks to Frank at dVerse for giving us an opportunity to write about autumn, which was always my favorite season. Maybe a little less now, but still.
Autumn is late. It’s nearly November and the willow leaves still hang green with a few golden outliers.
This year I purchased bright yellow chrysanthemums, which I’ve never done before. Usually, I love the deep rusts and dark purples, the burnt oranges of dying fires, autumnal colors. But maybe like the trees, I’m not ready to relinquish brightness for early evenings or heated breath clinging white in cold air. And those yellow mums, so perky, so bright like the July sun, make me smile.
Catbirds, grackles gone.
As leaves crackle under tiny paws
gray squirrel hoards acorns.