Nov 25
Half the year
green tunnels
enclose the roads
and paths,
surround the fields,
plump the ridgelines,
make forest something
you must enter into,
that you cannot see through;
the fall of almost all
the green
brings back the long lines
and contours of the ground;
and contrary for a month or two
displays all the colors we can see
that are not green.
We had a visitor, for the first time in many years,
we stalked her for an hour, just the one.
A decade ago, we’d have hundreds flock through.
If the snake can’t see you, you can’t see the snake,
brunching on burrowing mammals.
Over the south ridge, also mostly hidden,
up at ravens’ croft, a pillowy agent of change
assesses the coming of the colors
in the cerulean October sky.
The Monarch even made a movie, too big to post here.
Sep 24
Colors just happen in the fall.
Abundance of don’t-forget-to-touch-mes,
but calming now, no longer explosive.
Truth, beauty, decay.
Sumac works through orange
into its final reds.
Spent and pulling back, residue of bloom.
Quiet all summer, the chimney rose seizes the day.
Still just a scatter, it’s early days.
Weeds are flowers
you don’t have to cultivate.
Sometimes the best colors
aren’t hardly colors at all.