Momiji 紅葉

Red maples dance:  I
Approach  slowly and listen
To the wind.  Music

For the maples as
I join in their dance.  My arms
Raised to them.  Their leaves

Shining red: flutter.
Wind stills.  I bow to these most
Perfect of partners.

Line of fire:  maples
Ignite the sky and burn the
Horizon.  Night falls.

Equinox 11:58 p.m. 12:06 a.m.

Warm air

Like bathwater.

Dog day cicadas susurrate.

The woods are silent and dark.

Green smell of grass

Seems to fade.

I feel the seasons changing.

A coolness brushes my cheek

And crickets begin their sawing.

Cicadas fall silent as they burrow

Into the earth.

Subtle but detectable change.

The spicy smell of maple leaves

And dried pine needles:

Brown smell, no longer green smell

In the air.

My pulse quickens.

The lethargic breeze of hot humid summer

Leaves my body

And is replaced by

The quicker breath of

Autumn wind.

So still I stand

The heavy dew of autumn

Coats my hair

And clothing.

I shiver but the shiver

Is the uncomplicated cool of autumn

And not the hostile shiver of winter

Nor the slight vibration of summer.

Summer sighs and goes to sleep.

Autumn awakens.