autumn

The air is changing.

A bite in mornings freshness,
    a crisp edge in days adjourn.

Leaf and grass spin bright with gold,
    a harvest moon arcs, round and fat.

I feel the seasons changing too.

The tick tock of day eager
    for the cool, dark of night.

I feel, the sweet hint of slumber,
    life turning inward, preparing for rest.

I hear, the swish-swoosh of leaves dropping,
    spent toward earth,
The chitter-chat of squirrel
    hoarding against hungry night.

I smell, the robust scent of time reclaiming verdant youth
     with auburn arms and harvest breath.

I see, man,
    spinning in discordant rhythm,
    beset by cell phone, ipod, blackberry, tivo,
    plagued by artificial light, alarm clock, calendar,
    thought.

I wonder at all our busy, self important knowing,
   contrasted against the soft ebb-flow of life.

I wonder, as the lilac leaves curl against the chill
    and the last of the pumpkins turn orange on the vine.

I wonder as the wind swirls and dances,
     carrying the salty smell of spice and sea and belonging.

I wonder.