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Ten Minutes in October

Heat for the senses, the added light

of backyard birches

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flares

in prelude to bareness, to the coming silence

before the music of icicles and the ping

and crack of frost on gates

and outer doors.

A day like this, if one took time,

the questions that would rise

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would be the kind we like most for answers

not needed - which vision

most allures? gold leaf in thousands

to shimmer branches; variegated

like batik on grasses below;

or the single one

after another

slipping down . . . the letting go

without a sound.