
blue winds of Autumn

they run through the branches stealing green from the leaves

the warm before the frost

Summer’s winding down. Pumpkins, chilly fog, hoping those last tomatoes get a chance to ripen before the first frost.

This morning the wind people spoke through the trees
sifting shoals of burnished leaves
inscribing whispered invitations on the shifting air

doll fall down
Kate Greenough's daily drawings