In the November
blue, the gleam of every bare
twig and lonely leaf

 

 

 

A trail bends
in the evening breeze and
autumn shrubs go bright

 

 Newborn mushroom

Crowned with fir and forest floor

Baptized in birdsong

Autumn,
still falling
like feathers

 

 

Final flower
Petals wrapped tight to hold
The sun

 

From all directions
crickets and geese drop songs on
the two-track path

 

 

pelicans
guiding the night across
droplets of gold