Right now it's too early
for our eyes to see
how perfect a painter
Old autumn can be..
In a week (maybe 2)
she'll shower us all
and render the splender
of the beauty of fall..
Her brush strokes are many
& her portraits are fine..
she's got so much to do
in so little of time..
she's the shortest of seasons
but the best one to see
her canvas is endless
& her pictures are free..

Deep in the woods
on a tiny hill
overlooking a stream
I long ago found
what seemed to be
a foundation..
a definate sign
that something
once was there.
the open well
not far away
said many things...
I often go there
to sit upon the rocks
in the late summer sun..
Alone with the wind
listening to Her poetry....
(the wind is A poet you know.)
She whispers on dew drops
sunsets and snowflakes..
rain intoxicates her,
she dances with lightening
as thunder roars around them..
The wind writes poetry
that has no words...
it needs no words..
to hear it
one needs only
to listen...

Down a country road
near a tiny Coal town
Called Whisper Hollow...
a old woman named Hattie
lives in house trailor
behind the pine trees..
Nineteen sixty two
she bought it new...
ownes all the land
as far as she can see...
mined it 3 times
But this time
they restored the land.
460 acres
just outside town....
But, her trailor is not
what it may seem..
fourteen rooms
was built around it..
the trailor sits
deep inside the walls.
(It's A hall way now they say)..
i've never been there..
or seen past the pine trees..
Talk at the rest home
is her daughters
have been
"checking things out.."
Her Son has been overheard
talking to contractors
about developing the land.
Hattie waits for darkness
and walks the road
watching sunsets
and shadows
Hearing the quiet,
while she can...
wishing that someone
(just one of them)
would come to visit...

The old house
tucked away in time..
seemed to be
trying to hide.
I did not invade
her space this day....
maybe it was
nervous thoughts
of snakes and mice
(and things not so nice)
that kept me
keeping my distance..
i have come to trust
my first impressions...
the sky promiced rain,
as i sat upon the huge rock
with my camera.
i could see
small animals
looking out windows...
watching me
as if checking to see
what i was doing...
Dodging my harmless
Just missed shots...
Birds cried out
from the trees
as if awaiting
my departure..
They say a old man
who lives by the county line
brings them cracked corn
and scraps ......

.

Can you see fall?
( I see fall)
Hey, Summers going down..
it isn't in the tress but please
look closer to the ground..
she's springing up from below
Autumn is her given name
She's hot then cold
( that girl is bold)
it's like she plays a sexy game..
i was looking out the windows of
a tiny church so old..
and thought about, it's time no doubt
for Autumn to unfold..
I can see her there
( i hear her there)
she's not one to whisk right in..
she'll slowly come
(she's just begun)
try to catch her while you can...