By Tess Barry


Sweet daybreak

comes again

a warming hand

across the width of autumn.

Birds chirp within

the neighbor’s giant maple

still green and almost November.

Leaves turning slowly this year

the gingkos only edged in yellow

resist deepening

into their final colors.

Everything holding on:

even the tulip trees

redwoods of the east

not ready to undress

for December’s white pleasure.

And me on the porch

a silent witness

of all that’s yet to come.

November turning toward me

then away again

like an injured friend

needing more time.


Photo by Rose Erkul on Unsplash