Chilly trees

I peek out my window
and let my eyes linger
on the dancing shadows in the street.

Still bright the tall lamps standing guard along the sidewalk's edge.

Quiet and still the motors of a busy day, ready to rev
when the sun reveals the colors of the shadows.

But for now the shadow are black, and dancing

And I watch the rhythym of their dancing
and know after one moment, ...maybe two, ...wait for the third,

yes, the day is one of autumn--
of breezes and dreams of hot cider.
Of crunchy carpets and smoky smells.

And I should wear a sweater.