Autumn Begins

Autumn Begins I stand on my porch eyes raised into a pallid sky like Greer Garson on the Cliffs of Dover watching her lover's Spitfire cross the channel. Geese gather in the bay. Daily practice formations vee over my cottage which is even now hunkering down into the forest. It pulls in its garden skirts in one last show of bravado with golden asters and tattered baby's breath lace kicking high. Wood is piled on the porch to feed my parlor stove when white is the colourless of the day. My geese bugle and triumph in a crackle of song, " come with us, come with us woman of the north, Join our soaring into the warmth of another land."