trees are changing their robes;
on misty mornings
I am sitting on my porch.
a book
I've found in a vintage bookstore
at the corner of my street
is lying in my lap
drinking a tea
wrapped into my favorite blanket
and watching my neighbors
carving their pumpkins
smelling the scent
of firewood
while also listening to
Frank Sinatra
autumn, oh autumn
where have you been?