Saturday, November 01, 2008

Nearing November






My feet move, scuff, through crunchy gold--






through rusty-orange, bright, bold--












through brilliant yellow,















richest red--










as old October paths I tread.

Glorious beauty--

fading
fast.


I
cannot
make
my
autumn
last.

2 comments:

What it's like to have Addison's Disease said...

I love your poem and your pictures! Beautiful.

Jenae said...

You have a great talent with words. Thanks for sharing with the rest of us.