under the benevolent gaze of our furred supervisors
we coax the soft colours of the early Fall
into our cloth
since the summer solstice, the trees of the woods
have been doing their housekeeping
sorting the trash as it were
preparing for the glorious leaf-shed that
is yet to come
for us it means golds and browns in our bundles
less green
[that's more a colour of May and June - bearing in mind we're talking northspeak here]
by four in the afternoon
folks are feeling the call of the teapot
[or for some, a splash of something stronger]
i wander down the meandering gravel road
bordered by stone fences
blessed by the occasional falling maple leaf
and stand for a while in the gentle rain
[unstrained, like the quality of mercy]
gazing at a still pool
in which small brown fish are nibbling their way along the bottom
i remember, years ago
lying flat on a warm rock
reaching my arm into a cold cold stream
to tickle the belly of a trout
and turn back
it has been a very good day