Point of no

These gold September skies
and sun-drenched days mislead.
Autumn’s trees have surrendered:
ochre leaves instead of red
serve defeated vinegar
instead of claret wine.
Look: erstwhile scarlet sumac
dithers in frowsy sepia;
maples rust by the roadside;
desiccated wisps drift down,
crush underfoot.
In the end, October will disappear
under November’s slurried slush.

And then, overnight
a blush of orange–
and soft October blooms.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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