Walking early in the morning,
early enough to be fog laden
and warbler and wren frisky
extra dewy from a moist summer
I tried to imagine Fall’s colors
among ash, birch, oak and maple.
Just a glimpse I thought
would be handy.
A sample of a mountain trip perhaps.
And I could already see yellow and ochre
trim edging the weaker trees’ boughs –
and then for a hadron instant the trees
and sparkled limbs collapsed to a teardrop
and spiral of approaching hues.
I shook my head astounded
heard the low turkeys’ cackle callings
while a black crow alighted in
shaking the poplar as sure as the breeze.
I knew then it was no ruse –
the colors were sure to be of Every’s hues.