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