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.