Autumn Reverie

Autumn Reverie
Christopher Bogart

It is a time
When the air becomes
Crisp and cool,
And the sky turns
A deepened blue.
Clouds gleam
In the kind clear rays –
A bright white light.
And a faint smell
Of fresh, crisp apples
Tints the air…

It is this time
That I look to the green leaves,
Dancing to the wind’s tune,
And see the possibility
Of orange,
Flame red,
And russet yellow
Tint their nature.

My bones chill,
And my mind awakens
To a spirit new,
Gliding on that wind,
And turning to me
As if to beckon
That I follow his chase…
His race
To the setting sun.

It is the endings
That summon
Beginnings.