The sky in Autumn

The deep blue of Autumn
sky calls to me, persistently
whether bright and crisp
or clothed in gray sweater-cloud,
anointed by the rain or
hidden by the moonlight;
her admirers wave gold tips
and slashing reds, remind me
that her royalty alone allows
their vibrant colors, otherwise
garish, irreverent, unmatched.
November skies speak open things
to me: promise eager possibility;
I fall in love under these skies
with Life itself and its paths,
fresh in every afternoon
unexplored and impatient
for me to summit, there to find
her deep blue sky awaits
and beckons me on for more





November 2019: I wrote a lot of poems about Fall. Hope the other seasons aren’t jealous, but I have a good explanation: Fall is just so much better than the other seasons.