Mousy gray, velvet fog is
moving stealthily between
half-dressed tree branches
quietly bumping a leaf or two
starting a yellow spinning fall.
Then it drapes the webs
of small spiders
in diamonds and pearls
revealing their secret locations
against the smokey air
in its frozen movement.
It hides the blue heron across the river
until he sees my advance
and like his pterodactyl ancestor
breaks a perfect silence by screeching harshly
in his departure
into the grayness
disappearing like an angry ghost
over the distant river.
Hidden even closer
breaking the surface of mirrored water
at my side
a Canada loon
cantillates a nostalgic song
as if missing his summer already
and eyeing me to see if I understand.
The Earth
is sighing
after the brash energetic show
she put on all week for the masses.
Then throwing a silky covering
across her shoulders
across her shoulders
like a Prima Donna
she begins to remove the last
of her make-up
just as the final curtain comes down.
