Rainless months march to drab fall,

Colors hide in withered brown shades.

One hears chill of winter’s call,

Ponders absence of accolades.

Third season hides winter’s starkness,

Its thinness of veil the spirit chills,

Setting mood for long darkness,

Frigid fingers hug these hills.

 Not this year, my leaf loving friends!

Nature’s treat — splendiferous raiment,

Came thrice — in canopy yet wends —

To Blue Ridge beauty, pastel testament!

When other areas cried for rain,

Received not a summer dribble,

Storms splashed our window-pane,

Flora nor fauna raised a quibble.      

October reds, yellow accentuation,

Turned orange in few days’ span,  

Then brown — no shine or saturation,

But that drabness flashed in pan,

For boughs, the wind twisted, tore,

Dead brown deleted from green,

Black gum crimson rose to the fore,

Hickory, poplar, a bright yellow screen.

Tinged glory basked, time insufficient,

Then slowly edged to tan and brown.

Wind and rain proved quite efficient

Dropping dead leaves to ground.

So a second color peak emerged,

In brighter oranges and maple pink,

Yet soon dried and submerged —

Under monochrome destined to sink.

 Again — chance and circumstance —

Wind and rain, miracle would adorn.

Green to brown evoked resistance,

And a third color peak was born.

Chlorophyll from ripe leaves drained,

Leaving thinned canopy variety hued,

Sprinkled bright, rose blotch stained,

And warmest rainbow tints accrued.

To whom nature brings adoration,

This autumn was felt and seen —

Even if declared aberration —

Perfect seasonal go-between.

This third peak was best of all,

Blushing and brandishing about.

“Truly a gift, this magnificent fall!”

Under turquoise sky, we shout. 

© 2007 R. Leland Waldrip