Even without a calendar

without a clock on the wall

I would know it’s Autumn

I can feel that it is Fall.

 

Perhaps the filter of the light

smoky golden rosy glow

I hear geese coming back

the birds surely know.

 

Slight coolness in its changing breath

such odd stillness in the air

Blue watercolor sky

Tree and moss finery fair.

 

And rich, bold oil painting colors

sweep the landscape with a brush

Wood smoke scents crystal nights

Oh, white winter do not rush.

 

Yes, I would know that it were Fall

sans note or clock or mirror

Lulling whispers in air

say autumn has settled here.