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Poem

Finished vines
waving limply in the wind,
tangled streaks across the hillside.

The Autumn Earth
conceals eternal motion
under a carpet of many colors;
a fluid carpet that flutters and shifts
beneath my feet;
a noisy carpet telling the story 
of my presence.

Frost-bitten flowers
broken by my passing touch
salt their pollen on the wind;
a gooseberry shrivels
against the bark of a naked bush.
The black bear and the coons steal
each other's dens,
and bees, lethargic,
cuddle on the combs.

But why?

I know why---
scientifically, astronomically--
the earth and sun fly elliptically
and space dilutes the energy.
But still i cling 
to the burnt orange leaves,
savor the last unsquashed berry,
dreading the day
when my worn winter jacket is not warm enough
and my breath freezes
and my legs hurt where my boots rub.

The frozen rain clings in crystals
to tired trees; snow glitters like shattered glass
and cold sunlight assaults my eyes.
I close my eyes against the glare
and listen to the moaning wind,
and dream of a world
where Autumn gives birth
to Spring.

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