I sit and watch
the season pass --
the swallows
have flown south.
Sparrows huddle
in the trees,
waiting to be fed.
The leaves have
     begun to turn --
acorns litter the ground.
All the colors:
the yellow willow,
the orange maple,
     verging pink.
The browns and
     purples,
surround me now.
The mighty elm,
Autumn's last sentinel,
stands tall, baiting
Winter with its chill.
Soon bare branches,
     skeleton trees,
will haunt the skyline
and pine-cones will fall
with any sudden
     wind.
Soon I'll bundle
against the cold,
trudging through the
     snow,
waiting for daffodils
and Spring's delights.