While walking through my own quaint

Tree lined path in the local park

I imagine a brooding forest

Decorated in vibrant brush strokes

Of reds, golds and yellows.

 

Behind and above the flaming canopy

Of deciduous trees

There is a snow-capped backdrop

Of blue gray mountains.

 

Overcast and ashen,

The sky is painted in melancholy tones

That complement my mood.

 

Even the ethereal beauty

Of the woodland cottage, smoke coiling upwards,

Reminiscent of an exquisite oil painting,

Only briefly stirs the longing in my heart and soul.

 

Brightly colored leaves tumble slowly in the winds,

Like flamboyantly hued clothes in a Laundromat dryer,

As they blanketed the lawn and nearby pond.

 

Teals, like tiny feathered Cessna planes,

Coast onto the rippled pond.

They swim in flowing,

Ever widening circles,

And dive  into its depths,

Before popping out

With quiet splashes.

 

Squirrels dash passed the cottage,

Mouths crammed with acorns,

And claw  their way

Up the rough umber bark

Of towering moss and fungi speckled oaks

 

Into leafy nests and dark bole holes

And tumbles into a troubled sleep,

Dreaming of the coming snow.

 

WTO 11.27.11