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.