The calm lake reflects fall’s fiery furry,
oranges and reds lit ablaze from September’s sun.
Wooden tables, moss covered, watch and worry;
lest they forget, people with cameras flock and run.
Puffy white clouds never fail with their tricks;
for an hours’ time, the fire’s intensity subsides,
falling into purple and blue eddies—time slowly ticks
away where winter’s white is a life/death divide.
Yet, with an intensity that rages, comes sadness
that birds’ and squirrels’ music will cease for winter;
their mania amongst the leaves brings madness—
a countdown before long nights and short days splinter.
And yet, there is a calm in Autumn’s last hurrah
as the picnickers and hikers with cameras sigh “ah”.
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