October’s Prelude

Is it not wonderfully strange that even under the dying light of an old summer – amber, sun-hungry birch leafages flit about beds of clover and twinkle in the rays of morning like wind-shaken grains of sand on the beach of a nameless jungle?

You Wait Your Turn, October

Turn away but a moment and fall seizes the land Now the honey locust rests and autumn’s blonde trim hurries about the grove Patience, October! Your time will come

September, Please Don’t Go

A cocktail is best enjoyed on the shore of a noiseless pond as the little forest of bur oaks begins to go bronze.