Crisp air, cold, hurry, hurry!

Nose sharp with dew, where’s my tissue?

River running, chattering over the stones,

Gurgling, bubbling, jug-jug-plop!

Crisp, golden leaves scattered underfoot

Ropes of bittersweet hanging from trees,

Orange and gold curls of vine reveal

Aggressive, parasitic hold on tree and shrub,

“Here to stay!” they shout.

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Glossy carnelian clusters of ripening rose-hips

A dozen on each grass-green stem

Arches of green dotted in red proudly show

Their jagged thorn; food and danger.

Last sprigs of sumac leaves cluster atop

Sprawling branches like rust-red palm trees.

Blueberry leaves crimson ovals in golden grass

Spears of green rushes, wet, soggy squelches of

Boots tramping muddy runnels.

A robin cheeps.


A sparrow inquires, another

Answers in a distant thicket.

The robin begins again a piping cheep,

Punctuated by a higher peep.

We’re being observed and chatted about,

The wild village converses.

Then perhaps forgetting all about us,

Going on about their business, they’re

Bored with our inaction.

Air clear, sharp, open sky.

Sun slides away, a rosy haze

Settles in the west, stars prick on,

The crows have long since gone to roost

In the pines along the ridge.


About Eliza Waters

Gardener, writer, photographer, naturalist
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4 Responses to Autumn

  1. I love the line “aggressive, parasitic hold…”!

  2. Kina says:

    Beautiful!! As I read, I was walking along the trails with you in spirit! 😊

  3. Eliza Waters says:

    Thank you, so was that you behind me? 😉

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