Sunday, September 19, 2021

Tipping Point
The wild tangles of trees and brush along our walk may still be lush and green,
handfuls of blackberries hanging rich on their arching vines

Rabbits still dine on fresh greenery, thoughtfully chewing blades of grass
then hopping away with their bobbing white tails when my dog stealthily approaches.

But the plain fact of the matter is that change is in the wind.

Rain stings my face as I burrow my hands into my pockets.
The first few leaves to fall, eager young things, clutter the wet walk.

Last night's winds blew rusty needles from the cedar.
We tiptoe across the carpet as we enjoy the branches' protection from today's rain.

We're almost home when I see the first hint of flaming leaves
And then I know for sure.

^ Sweet summer has reached her tipping point
And autumn is just around the corner. 

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