Fall blows in
Fall blows in
scattering everything
it doesn’t seem to like
the orderliness, of the
previous seasons.
the calming blossoms
of spring
opening always like poetry
that charming procession,
or the sturcture of summer
strong branches
in big leafy trees
offering shady places
and holding all of
mother nature’s blessings.
Fall bellows
like a rude customer
set off by a bad day,
like an eccentric visionary
impatient, unyeilding
and destroying all evidence
of it’s precedors
in its wake.
It is the boss now
and it knows it.
and so throws its fits
while its death
in its fine suits
of brown, red, and gold
adheres to this matiarch.
it’s tradition,
that God in autumn.
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