It is frost that sets the
fires of autumn,
turning leaves to
yellow, red, and orange flames.
The wind carries their burnt colors
as farewell notes across the grass.
Grand oaks peer into blue sky
watching geese wing their way
to warmer weather while
they tuck their limbs
and wait for sleep.
Fall always sparks childhood memories. Our little home in the country was surrounded by trees,
and in autumn the woods turned brilliant colors. I would spend hours outdoors taking in
the sights and sounds. When the leaves finally let go of their hold on branches, I imagined it
as crumpling raindrops.
©Susie Clevenger 2012
Real Toads ~ Transforming Fridays
dVerse Poets Pub ~ Postmodern (Prose)