On Halloween night
 
little tricksters roam the streets
 
begging for sweet treats.

 
 
 

Misty autumn dawn—
 
with the sparrow’s first thin notes
 
my joy is renewed.

 
 
 

Gusty autumn day—
 
about the weather, fenceposts
 
don’t have much to say.

 
 

I watch my grandson
 
watching a raven strutting
 
on an autumn fence.

 
 
 

On a mountain path
 
no wider than a child’s foot
 
Autumn picks her way.

 
 

Autumn morning mist—
 
I dream of months-long journeys
 
to distant places.

 
 
 

October sorrow—
 
watching the full hunter’s moon
 
slip into darkness.

 
 

How disconcerting
 
to see the sugar maple
 
strip itself of leaves!

 
 
 

October nightfall—
 
a possum in the woodpile
 
comes out of hiding.

 
 

With her loaded brush,
 
Autumn splashes brilliant tints
 
on each dying leaf.