By Dave Hood
Under pale sunlight, on a cold day,
wearing a down-filled parka, woolen cap,
I take a leisure stroll
on a carpet of decaying leaves,
in the woods. Inhale the crisp air, feel a chill,
contemplate approaching winter—snow,
and ice, and solitude.
I take snapshots of autumn’s fading glory,
Red maples, yellow birch leaves. Notice
an oak leaf falling into the frigid river,
float away, as if suggesting—-autumn is departing,
like snow birds flying south for winter.