Hide lost secrets in misty veils
Golden leaves drop on wet greensward
In the twilight.
Is the grass greener in this
Lit windows cast warm beams into the evening
But geese depart and call hoarsely
In the skies
Chestnut vendors peel away the shells
Of seared nuts to clear their sweet cores.
They smile as tired children
Come to warm their hands.
The coals glow in the barrels and
Smoke curls around the tree trunks’ rough bark
Such visions belong to Autumn
Season of decay and
© HMH, 2020