Travels through your bones-
first slowly, then builds up a steadier momentum.
At instances, striking when least expected,
overcoming people as they adapt to the conversion
of seasons.
Shifting from very hot, to a bitter chill,
eventually stepping into a cozy fall breeze.
Absolute balance between, supple winds,
and contented warmness.
Crows cawing, squawking,
uninterrupted-
perched upon black tightropes connecting wooden poles,
that are their homes. Gliding through New England air,
swooping down-
scavenging brown earth in pursuance of nourishment.
Raisin' a ruckus, as sunrise's alarm clock, awakening
us to day's dawning.
Evening enters the scene-
skies with the bluest glow,
encompass our yard with warm
embraces.
Chirping of crickets comes through
screen,
a choir with harmonies so rich,
their melodies sooth the night-
with lullabies writ by nature's own hand.
Ever increasing twilight as daylight fades into night,
blankets tallest trees-
with a soot-colored quilt-
provoking nighttime's celestial sphere,
to appear more rapidly.
As blue converts to darkness,
I'm reassured by a fuzzy green blanket,
wearing an older sweatshirt
with an eagle and town signature on it,
that once belonged to my father.
Autumn nightfall-
unfolds like a prayer,
at each day's close.
Season of serenity,
caressing evening and day.