Autumn

The sky is the cleanest blue

that only comes between seasons

for a moment in time

feeling as clean as a baby's breath

smooth as lambskin

and crisp as a crease in Italian cotton.

The Sugar Maples' color

gives new meaning to the word

breathtaking

when it does.

The air is fresher now

as light shifts

night sneaks in sooner

logs are stacked

and out moves in.

This morning

the mist creates a stage set

in tones of black and light

layered oak stenciled near, far

and mid-ground.

The golden acorns

weigh tree and rain on the roof

and once on my head

making a lump

as big as an acorn.