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Autumn stretches her chilly fingers,
Still gloved in sunny days,
And caresses trees whose leaves
Blush Red and
Drift
In slow swirls to the ground.
She taps a quickening rhythm deep
Into the cooling earth
And coaxes lazing bulbs
To stretch and
Push
Up from summer slumber.
She summons Wind to join her game,
Twitching tendrils of new
Cold into hidden spots
Where creatures
Hide
To soak up ebbing warmth.
Autumn dances quickly through the dark
Hearing Winter's heavy tread,
Lightly making final
Touches as she
Spins
And turns to nothingness again.
—Chris Behl, May 2009
