"The Wine of Autumn"

Under a tree do I love to sit
and peaceably watch as
it's leaves recommit
to colors of proud majesty -
All is Fall for me.

Not the loud winter,
not gentle, as spring,
not harsh as in summer,
not even by some, a noticed thing.

But this we call,
for perfect reason,
Fall.

It explodes in your eyes,
yet offers repose to your soul,
in staring at impossible skies.

Like spring - in a gentle rain of leaves,
Like summer - in the great expanse of trees,
Like winter - in the cooling free breeze,
the wine of Autumn embraces all.

And my joy at its appearance,
for no other season,
can I recall.

Cathy S. Rapicano
October, 2003