In the shadow of an October morn…
leaves are becoming…vagrants, radiant, fragrant.
So basic…a life…final justice in falling degrees.
I could wander endlessly, in the ages.
Admiring the poetry of a cloudy day.
Orange hues suffering…
thus, no room for beauty’s blue.
There is poetry in October’s showers.
Towering timbers telling stories…each and every hour.