Different Wavelengths

Quite the 14th Birthday Event... now on to poetry that has nothing to do with birthdays, parties, balloons or streamers!

Theme: Nature - Autumn

You must use at least four senses (smell, hear, see, touch, taste) as well as giving the reader an emotion whether tis anticipation, exhilaration or dread (for example).

You must give the reader color without using standard 'colors'. (see below)

Words to use: Canopy, carousel, chatter, harvest,

Words NOT to use: red, green, brown, black, gray, blue, yellow, orange, smell, hear, see, taste, feel, touch, cold, hot

Ghostly fingers
lace across the meadow
as a hint of wood smoke lingers.
Jacket time called in by
geese migrating, flying high
although it is too early for such things.

Canopy leaves whisper
of vermilion journeys
and already, cinnamon and nutmeg
chatter underfoot, begging
the question of out-of-monthly
night-orb dance; gilding all but
the sand-hill crane's wings
silhouetted against the bloated fish-belly
of harvest moon.

Apple-wood ringed in copper
shoots sparks to rise and dip:
crimson fire flies mingle with late lightning bugs
as the burning wood turns flame
to teal and celadon. I sip
my mug of coffee, savor the crunch
of free fall apple, not yet fully ripe,
inhale the newborn essence
of the sleepy time dawning.

A hart grunts beyond the rim
of meadow, not yet in rut,
nor has the fever risen, but
it tingles in the blood, marked by moon
and flight of crane,
measured in wax and wane
of more than lunar heraldry.

As autumnal urges surge,
the hunters yearn to begin the hunt:
both stag to knock the doe
or arrow nocked in bow for buck.
Symmetry scaled in balance
of skill, of blood, of luck.
My Robin, my Puck,
grins as fingers itch to seize
his moment, his string to pluck.

Feelings carousel,
a dizzy spin to music heard
only in the head and heart
and yet like notes upon a sheet of
some autumnal symphony
marked by crack of branch or snort or stomp,
or madrigal, perhaps, where each integral word
becomes a part of something more immense
than antlered heads or bony branches,
more intense
than riotous shades
of a grounded rainbow
swirled on orchestral pallet.

Too tumultuous, I fear--
belied by lazy scetchings of wood-smoke
stitching the meadow
as we reclined in moon glow to drift
on independent rifts of thought:
where he already was on the hike
and I had new poetry to write.