Humphrey’s Peak right up there
With clouds tailing off
Dusted with snow like a cinnamon bun.
Flagstaff silent but for the crows,
Some traffic rolling along cracked and tar strapped asphalt
Breeze pushing yellow, green, yellow-green leaves along a sidewalk
Bluebirds bright, their song with joy
Happiness like a child’s reflection in an iced over pond.
the very air
—crisp, crackling with energy.
Winter draws nearer.
The smell of old leaves,
Of dead leaves,
Blue of autumn sky.