Originally published in Lake Country Journal, Brainerd, Minnesota

Upon Watching the Death of a Perfect Autumn Day

I sensed the dusk shudder
as it tightly wrapped
the pink-orange-plum comfort
of the fading sunset
around my quaking shoulders,
fighting against the relentless chill
of the ever-advancing darkness.

Mustard and vermillion leaves
across the river faded
to raw and burnt umber.
A hush drifted over the valley
as maple, birch, oak and fir
whispered to each other
of happier days
and dropped leaflets in protest.

I should go inside, I thought
and warm myself, but instead
I drew my sweater close about me
and waited for the Dog Star.

--nadia