10/25/2026
In the Fall
Cat under the Maple.
Its starting to turn.
Red now, a glow.
Soon enough to be gold.
Across the path
a white picket fence.
Trying to hold
the afternoon sun.
Evening haze has
begun in the field.
The forest drifting
into soft shade.
Setting bird cries
now in the air,
then still until
night birds call.
And then the cat,
remember the cat.
He’s watching shadows
come off the fence.
Crossing the path,
his clock ticking by.
Shadows of minutes,
till his dinner time.
black