It's about… um… autumn.


Autumn stealthily tiptoes closer,
hidden behind every tree and bush.
It is stalking the summer,
to capture and devour its long green grass
and hazy skies.
Only, it is not discreet for a hunter-
I can catch glimpses of its red-orange camouflage
through the lush and lazy green foliage where it rests on its
It leaves behind a trail of subtle splendour:
splashes of caution-yellow, alarm-red, on calm green leaves.
It stands upwind, I can taste it on the air-
a barely noticeable trace of sharp spice,
crisp, earthen, and cool.
In its yellow slitted eyes, bonfires burn and Halloween stories are
brisk winds rush across the lands
and sunsets paint the horizon in darker hues.
In its smoky voice footsteps crackle on the leaf-covered sidewalk,
acorns patter to the street,
children laugh and shout in games of backyard football.

With its claws unsheathed it leaps at summer and slashes,
spilling cider from its ripe veins.
It lives, and breathes, and runs hard
then slinks away into its den again
to wait
and watch
the winter.