An Autumn Walk
come . . . take my hand and we will walk
deep into a Canadian autumn woodland
where it is crisp and cool- vast and full
the woodland is quiet in the veil of morning fog
and we are wrapped in
infinite shades and hues of changing brushstrokes
of gold, red, orange and green_
but soon, we are lost in an ocean of different trees
and the drum of time has ceased for us - as
we are witnesses to nature's decay
in autumnal equinox . . . .
and stained- glass leaves fall around us
crackling, and crunching under our feet
for the forest floor is carpeted with the fallen
October orange and red turned rust colored
can you feel it_
can you hear the rustling squirrels and small creatures ?
oh, the wildflowers have wilted!
(but still birds sing)
all around is a wondrous earthiness
full of a cornucopia of scents . . . . just inhale the air
the stream still flows with a loud fierceness
but we know winter will . . . still her screams
shall we gather some finger-painted leaves?
so we can press them into our books _
______________________________
October 21, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/an autumn walk
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1296-822-21
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Still Life Autumn
sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place
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