bench beside trail:
vacant but for a gnawed
hickory nutshell.
Gnawed Hickory Nut [Haiku]
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the grain is ripe.
the days are short.
the farmer, weary.

through the Autumn,
one tree holds leaves longer,
then drops them faster.

one strange tree
curls like a question mark:
Autumnal forest.

The chill is here.
The sky never
bluer.
The colors turn,
with leaves ever
fewer.
Until a last
hanger-on yields
to a weak breeze.

breeze-twisted leaves
catch the sunlight of an
Autumn afternoon.

each passing day
more yellow carpets the ground,
more blue shows through.