Autumn sprinkling gold dust,
magic slips into the mountains.
A wedge of honking geese
cuts through cobalt skies.
Golden rod nod their heads,
breath of fall on my cheek.
The air smells like apples,
autumn sprinkling gold dust.
Star-studded asters hug
the banks of Hyatt Mill Creek.
A doe and twin fawns appear,
magic slips into the mountains.
Corn shocks rattle their fingers,
a pumpkin pie baking.
Maple burns like Moses’ bush,
a wedge of honking geese.
Light spins a kaleidoscope
through the patchwork of trees.
Thousands of monarch butterflies
cutting through cobalt skies.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
