A Poem of Autumn

by Vala Schriefer

I always love when

the maples become nervous

faltering under the sky

Where the branches stick out

like fish bones on an aquamarine plate

ribs and spines; sharp silhouettes braving the blue

I always shiver when

the emotional wind crescendos through the woods

composing the trees

directing the pebbles to quiver

into a steady drumroll

I always nod respectfully to

the heaps of pale leaves

huddling together against the cold

They resemble small burial mounds

adding an undulation

to the season’s horizon

I always wish to see where

the trees retire on the ground,

where it is soft and damp

and their tired branches relax

into geometric patterns  

and the blue sky seems less daunting