“A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made.
The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air."…Eric Sloane
“It’s mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection
Flashing coldly In the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory"…Thomas R. Drinkard
A pale misty autumn morning by the river, when even the trees seem insubstantial and ethereal…sudden gusts tear the last leaves from the branches..November
Watercolour on Arches Not Paper..