Cracklin’ Day

It’s a cracklin’ day,

Cool and alive.

The forest is afire -blazing

In the geriatric colors of autumn.

All the little leaves glisten, sparkling

Beneath a cold sun.

They dry and in dyeing,

Cling desperately

To all they have ever known.

In time their grip is lost.

Floating freely

On the whispering breath

Of each easy breeze

That comes along,

A newer chapter is begun.

Then seemingly, suddenly,

Summer will fall,

And spring unblooms,

Into tiny blossoms of death,

Delicately disguised as snowflakes,