Lavender cuttings,
after the last summer bee,
from my mom's garden.

Morning spiderwebs,
I'm breaking into my life,
alone, building it.

The glowing forest—
I keep my dreams to myself
as the sun goes down.

Fall woods are quiet,
geese congregate on the lake,
chickadees forage.

The trouble in life,
waking up, an empty room—
telling a story.

Luxurious arms—
soft leaves open to the sky,
deer sleep underneath.

October sun—
warm trees let go of warm leaves,
the light is yellow.

Smooth and bright yellow—
leaves like hands, like flags, like bells,
October gingko.

My mind becomes calm,
the stars rearrange themselves,
I ask new questions.

Friday river walk,
starlings stand in for lost leaves,
movement fills our ears.

Now the trees are filled
with birds who understand change—
in flocks they prepare.

Asterisk mushrooms
like white stars broken open
on the forest floor.

Yellow grasses glow
against a navy blue shed,
we walk—ecstatic.

A brown-eyed susan—
seedhead like a planet in
a green universe.

Taking the deer path,
deep in the goldenrod field,
trees, arms full of leaves.

Winter stars gather
in the late October sky—
I have to thank them.

Milkweed for James Wright—
revealing delicacy
from a clamped hard shell.

Companion branches—
fall trees like calligraphy,
home to everything.

Rosehips line the path,
lake, steely gray like the sky,
birds gather and drum.

Complicated dreams,
sleeping with windows open,
while autumn moves in.