Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

Oh, autumn skies are like gallery walls
Dressed in art that is ever-changing
Etched by charcoal clouds as whittled rain falls

Frost nips; chickadees start rearranging 
Over the roofs v’s of geese chase the wind
Robins migrate, cold is so estranging 

A hot air balloon drifts, its colours tind*
Upped by high flames and their scarlet hiss
Tamed by a mist that morning will rescind   
Urged on by dreamers for summer they miss
Magic this moment, perfect and peaceful             
Not to be outdone, my tot blows it a kiss

When at last she sleeps, the veiled moon lulls
I stand by the window, sip my spiced wine
Night frames chimney smoke like all that I mull ...
Days that float on air with gifts so divine

By Cyndi MacMillan, Oct 26, 2012
For Russell Sivey's Up in the Autumn Air Contest

A Terza Rima Acrostic Ode? Oh, why not! 

*to tind means to kindle, to ignite (old English)