Autumn Walk
by Michael Escoubas

Unlike some autumn seasons
this year has been
dry and sunny. Even though

it is early November
desparate leaves
still cling to branches.

As I walk in the gentle breeze
gold, red, bronze
and yellow hands, now brittle

and out of chlorophyll,
let go at last
descending out-of-control–

light and compliant in blue air,
blazing in beauty
even in death. My eyes take in

Nature’s artistry, a palette–
portending
that which I wish I knew

waiting and waiting
just beyond my fingertips.



 

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