Call to Autumn

Dawned leaves of cool phobia nestle itself like a pheasant,
basking in the autumn brush to wait out a late morning's dew.
A damp, muted air, heavy with November promise,
reveals a secret to migrating flocks
and holds the attention of a young colt in the distance.
A maple soft bridge rests soundly between Summer and her lush-warm lover,
their opera now begun.
Winter eaves turn over in their sleep, but a dream finds itself once more.
Rusting sunlight gives its all as spring petals beg for rest.
Burning efforts find their first leaves and with forged abandon,
Autumn decorates its womb.