As fat hot rain drops
slams into the dry crust
sizzles on black rocks
you can even taste the dust

of sweltered green woods
becoming flaming collage
gold and vermilion
forest’s seasonal montage

When the birds take to wing
en southern masse migration
others gathering in close
for winter hibernation

Behind autumn’s colorful curtain
Sun melts slowly in horizon pastel
only the past is certain
tomorrow none can tell

M. Zane McClellan

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