Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Not softly, lazily
tumbling, a ballet to the earth
The leaves crashing
hurling themselves to the ground
The hot Indian summer
the sudden thunderstorm
heat rising from the hot pavement
a torrent of leaves
seeking the forest floor
Wind catching the thick oaks
mixing with the maple and birch
Crunching under my feet
soon but litter under the skeletal canopy
caught under the pines
Still for a while
bright colors of their dying
a quilt of many colors
nestled and unkempt, on the floor.


February 22, 2010



Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010
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