The light of the dawn rise waxes soft;
Paints streamers of gold and bronze;
Laces the liquid sky with caramel stripes.
Clouds like marshmallows sugar
The morning with wisps of autumn sweetness
As maple leaves rustle restlessly.
Shades of red fall.

The crisp nor’east wind bears tidings,
Tidings of winter’s impending set;
Snow frothed meadows lined by icy sentries
,

Arctic fox curled in a fur-lined snowball.
Pearled dew sprinkles the browning lawns,
Shimmers in the rising sun
Like amethysts set against a copper pendant.

The window pane conceals the November daybreak,
Feigns opacity, but reveals the last cardinal
Perched lightly on the naked birch branch.
Awaits the call of its vivid ruby mate
To catch a light, rise, drift south.
Their summer nest idles silently
Serving as a bowl for wintry frosted flakes.

Sea fog is loathe to dissipate in flitting rays
Breaking through the tree line at property’s edge.
The yellow strokes of topaz walk lovingly
Through the grass, illuminating the mist
Like the artist’s final stream of color
Across his seminal landscape.
You can feel the warmth in the fog.