In my corner
of all existing things,
Fall has come.
Time for cool night falls,
For trees morphing
into bouquets
of yellow, orange, crimson.
Birds flocking.
Clacking,
chirping cacophonies,
rising from
the colored canopies.
The hummingbird
has caught
a ride out of town.
Sunlight slants.
Honeysuckle,
bittersweet berries swell.
The locust pods hang low
upon the bough,
desiring the ground.
Fall.
Nature's descent:
Neither containable
or collected in a jar.
All we own
is its changing presence.
My Sunday
will be sunny,
with a slight chance
of starlings.
