EDGE OF WINTER (FOUR HAIKU)

The clouds build slowly
threatening to overtake
the maple’s red leaves.

October cloud knives
Slice branches from saddened trees
Leaves fall in mourning

Dogs peer at dawn’s sky
And slowly don winter coats
Knowing geese take flight

Tomorrow the snow
Will not fall from evening clouds
But soon, very soon

DUSK

As the afternoon fades,
the gray of the sky deepens,
the crows gather
in the highest branches
of the older trees,
until the leafless branches
seems suddenly burdened
with great black leaves.
As the already waning light fades
they take up their hymns
to the passing day, approaching night,
and we wait patiently
amid the cacophony
for the final refrain
of this solemn Mass,
when the oak and maple pews
will again sit starkly vacant.

OCTOBER

There is an infinite space
inside an atom, a massive void
into which universes tumble
and stars and planets are born.
Outside, the maple leaves
burning flame and crimson
spiral to the lawn, which
waits to receive them.
Autumn is the season
when the earth prepares to die
and it is left to us
to prepare the gravesite.
The white squirrel stands
on the fence rail, defying
me to find my camera,
his latest nut husks
slowly staining the concrete
of the walk. And yet
we cling to the fleeting sun
as it traverses horizons
for winter brings nothing
and asks even less.