September is almost over
and the leaves are my flowers now.
Leaves are My Flowers Now, Michael Dennis Browne

Down autumn the geese are flying
in the thin blue air. Very soon
sun will slump its shoulders,
will not be seen as high
as the geese fly now.

Down autumn the geese are flying.
Daylight trails behind.
Soon we will be left
with only the distant hunter
to pierce the cold night sky.

Down autumn the geese are flying.
The leaves of my life are falling—
the red, the gold, the brown—
onto this landscape of
oak and open ground.