It’s still Fall think I, but
there must be a lie in what I view.
Just yesterday the sky was blue,
winds gentle, temperate,
trees golden, brown, scarlet.
Today, driven by solid force
pellets, not gentle flakes,
assault my cheeks and nose
plaster one side of birch tree trunks
perch on drooped leaves yellow and red
stucco white patterns on grass that’s green
changing the world so recently seen.
Corralled horses calmly munch fodder provided
paying no heed to what nature’s decided.