The gust has a chill
Reminiscing the warmth of days past
It carries with it the soft embrace
Of lavender and dew
As the mourning sun rises
And nature awakens
A deaf pall falls with the leaves
Gently stirred by the growing gusts
Tilting just enough to reveal
The myriad of flashing diamonds
Common to the seasons first frost
Deflated the trees grown as stiff
Sore from the cooler climbs
They groan in protest at the push
Pulling back only in agitation
Somewhere in the canopy
A lone squirrel barks for love
Only to be drown out by the howling
Ever present within the autumn tempest
...
Then time freezes the landscape
Into a frozen panorama
Painting the anticipation for fall
In a quiet longing for spring
...