a few clouds scud by

the light rebounds in warmest golds and reds
short are the shadows at this autumn noon
the images have been locked into our heads

each tree with slow dignity its leaves now sheds
the season comes to us as a great boon
the light rebounds in warmest golds and reds

outside the breeze brings scents of cakes and breads
enough to make the most jaded ones to swoon
the images have been locked into our heads

resisting deciduousness the green tree spreads
casting its dappled shade not too soon
the light rebounds in warmest golds and reds

below the the bird moves in unsteady treads
its feet unbalanced by the lone plastic spoon
the images have been locked into our heads

this night as we warmly slumber in our beds
the colours will be silvered by the moon
the light rebounds in warmest golds and reds
the images have been locked into our heads