Up on a ridge
there is a road
that called to me
("come see...come see")..
on good sky days
the little road
seems to meet the sky...
It's therapy i guess,
so they say anyway....
to walk and drink in
Natures gifts.
walking alone
i can hear Autumn
chatting with summer
like she's a friend..
all the while
making plans
to leave summer behind
and join old man winter..
she'll paint him pictures...
And Autumns pictures paint
a thousand thoughts..
when summer starts fading
rest assured
Autumn's somewhere
she's ot there........
She's In between days
where summer fades
and Nature whispers..
she writes Poetry
with white clouds..
on blue skies
for winter to find...
on gravel roads
that lead to the sky...
for poets to find..
( lucky stones).
Autumn will try her best
to linger with Winter..
as long as she can..
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