Debris of Autumn

The grayness of Fall;
Different than Spring or Summer--
Marked by the brown leaves.













Slowly disrobing
Trees becomes a skeleton,
Thin fingers pointing.










Still they're persisting
These clumps of tiny colors--
Beacons in the gloom.

In Spring they were green:
Billowed ferns across the stream.
Now they turn yellow.













St. Anthony's back,
Watching over some flowers
Before the snow falls.









Moss layer peeks out
From under dead leaves and twigs--
Debris of Autumn.



From dead leaves and rock
A spray of small blue flowers.
In unity, strength.

Blown across the road
A dry leaf ends in new woods;
Always adventure.













Mysteriously
Two dead leaves hang by thin stems,
Quiver in the breeze.