It’s not quite winter…The leaves still clutch the branches
Reluctant to let go of autumn
Of life itself…
Most have lost their rainbow colors
Parched and thirsty…
While black and rusty squirrels dart
Among the leaves…
A maple-leaved viburnan’s ghostly now
Awaits its fate…
The slightest breeze steals the last leaves
In a ballet dance…
This oasis in the forest sanctuary to
Other species…
In the solitude a black-capped Chickadee
Serenades…
Fee-bee, chika-dee-dee-dee repeating
His whistled song…
A huge buck comes round the bend
Majestic antlers…
Like a general in command he ascends
A rugged mound…
And surveys the changes in the land
Becoming barren…
A black crow complains, complains
Crying caw, caw caw…
As if warning that the frost is near
The warning clear…
But it is not quite winter, not quite yet!!!
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