September 23, 2014

Leaves changing
Their palette to the
Most charming shades
Of orange and crimson,
Each morning, the sun
Sleeps in just a little bit
Longer, and the cold
Breezes bluster,
Preparing for their
Wintry debut.
With every sunset,
We march onward to
An autumn cadence.
The longest nights
Lie still ahead



September 25, 2013

The best kind of things
Are the ones that don’t
Make sense until you see
The ins and outs of what
Goes on inside.

Open me up,
Create a cross section
Of this flesh and bone,
And count the rings:
One, two, three.
There are wonders in
This world that one
Can only find beneath
The layers of time.

Muted shades of
Autumnal leaves float
In blustery breezes,
Striking my face with a
Surprising force. The sun
May penetrate the thin
Layer of grey clouds
Drifting above me, but
It can never pierce the
Bark on my trunk.

My heartwood stirs at
The sound of your voice.


Indian Summer

September 12, 2013

Swirling winds pick up;
Subtler hues in your eyes
Shine like the hard faces of
Gems cut from the earth.
It is not yet the equinox.

I wonder if the roots of
Trees feel the warmth
Of autumn sunlight, or if
They drink in the soil
As their foliage turns
The colors of passion:
Orange and crimson.

Hopefully your mind
Wanders like mine,
Swaying like those leaves
In the dusk, braving the
Mires of reality just to
Think of me.


House of Leaves

August 25, 2011

A savory breeze passed the time
Blowing across a tall wheat field
Many had prayed there, lived there,
But few had truly understood it

At the top of a hill, there laid
The foundations of what never was
Little more than a bald green hill
Surrounded by a sea of gold

You played house with a
Floor plan made of leaves and
Your heart in full bloom; you took me
By utter and complete surprise

I thought, more than once, that perhaps
My place had been there, on that hill
Where neither time nor mind could ever
Shatter the veil that we had created

What remains is a lost ruin,
A monument to opportunities and
The events of a tangent world
Still imprinted upon ours

The two souls reunite, they say
If you wait for a harvest moon
And listen for their laughter
In the cold autumn night.


Especially In Michigan

November 29, 2008

The worst timing
You could ever imagine,
I just wonder what
It might have been like.

It can’t be a coincidence
That you came from a
Place split in two.
Two halves of one whole,
A pair of hands that
I wish I could hold.

Green and brown!
Maybe in another life
I could have held those
Two beautiful colors,
Like the autumn escape
They’ve given me.

My hope’s lost, and you
Wouldn’t believe me
If I told you what was
Really going on inside
My ribcage:
Curved white bars
Keep my skewered
Heart at bay.

For now, I’m afraid
We’ll have to settle for
What never had been.
The clouds in my eyes
Break apart…

When you look to the West
And watch the sun die,
Just try to remember that
You aren’t alone.


October Frost

October 9, 2008

Through the quiet
Hours of the morning
I glance out the window and see
Mother nature’s age transparent,
If only for a moment, in the frost
Lacing the October grass.

The clean cold of autumn air
Sears your throat, the kind of gasping
Breath that leaves your lungs
Pleading for more.

It’s that gradient from green to orange,
The citrus blossom of summer traded in
For a wet, earthy smell that reminds me
Just how small I am.

A fleeting instant, where in the silence
Of the clearing a solitary fox stands proud,
Ears positioned to detect the faintest
Clamor of man’s incompetence…

The leaves underfoot crunch
In the fading light of dusk.