Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

green to burnt orange,
one tree holds the range of hues -
sometimes in one leaf

leaves swirl & tumble 
through the cemetery-
danced to life

in dry autumn air
seed pods split wide,
awaiting a breeze

half a tree
holds its leaves firmly 
the other stands nude

yellow petals
warm those who walk
the scrublands

dried fluff
catches amber rays
and glows

pine scent hits the nose
before i see the trees
and copper carpet

the butterfly
flies no straight lines, but
still finds the flower

autumn moon
rises over the city
before night arrives

brisk graveyard day -
fall hues and cloudless blue
warm lost souls