Sitting in my car at the stoplight
waiting to race towards another,
a slight flutter of yellow
attracts my impatient eye.

In the center of cranberry,
pumpkin and russet robed trees,
a crown of golden leaves
gracefully brushes the air.

Each leaf splotch hangs against the sky
for a mere second then meanders its
way toward a soft fall bed.

I wish I could stand
under the spray of leaves,
drops of yellow falling on my
hair and nose,
my arms and my shoes,
until, finally
I meld into her canvas.

Instead,
I race towards the green,
cursing
gray skies and
forgotten umbrellas.