The misting of early morning.
Catches a chill in the autumn air.
Even the solitary sounds
Of  crackling brown leaves
Beneath my feet are
crying a dirge of loneliness.

Occasional drops of rain
touch my face and feel like tears.
Or a lonesome wind
Dances through
the skeleton branches.
The smell of the woodlands
Has changed it taste.

solitary trees hold
their secrets in silence.
Summer is now a passing liaison.
And the autumn is shouting
as fierce as a lady scorned.