A Chill

fills my senses
browns, oranges, yellows
meld into the sky, a
back drop for this
autumn day.

Released,
a leaf tumbles,
slowly
falling, slowly
rotating.

Caught by a breeze,
the rusty fingers
slithering from
tree to tree, branch
to branch.

Floating, plummeting
toward the ground,
its blanket of
velvet leaves, maples,
walnuts, and birches.

Winds catch the oaken
fingers sending them skyward,
rolling them slightly,
across the street,
over the creek.

Swirling them,
toward the surface of the water,
touching, capturing, sending
them far away,
forever.

Dan Hanosh


http://www.poemhunter.com/dan-hanosh/





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