SEASON
Orange, red, and yellow,
Captured in the placid creek
Amid the ripened rushy greens--
These are not the hues of autumn.
Look beyond them, rather,
Through the thinning forest crown
To the portentous northern azure
Shading to a bleached-blue zenith.
Sighs and scents of storms
That muster far beyond the rim
Worry the mirror's murky course,
Easing down to the Great Water.
Strollers with their pet
Share moments on the iron bridge
And, turning with the sky, abide
By the advancing season's rule.