Late Autumn in Woodstock
the edges
of the leaves
sizzle
an ember's glow
it would be hot to touch them
even in this chill
the dazzle
of the light
blinding
just for a minute
mist rising up
like a lazy cat
not quite hungry enough
the sparkling
blanket
settles softly
around us
our footprints
in evidence outline
on the wet grass
A Sampling of Poems: