down amidst the leaves
rabbits reminding each other
frost will come again

seven crows regroup
around the neighbor’s chimney —
we’re all seeking warmth

each day shorter
than the one before —
I race the sun home

home all day —
I share my water bottle
with the windowsill plant

tangle of uprooted vines
yellowing grass underneath —
no clocks to turn back

nicotiana —
white flowers even brighter
as the sun slips down

bare branches at last —
in between bouts of raking
we touch wood for luck

cold night air
and the scent of pine needles —
our gloved hands touch

the sound of acorns
falling into the leaves below
as the fog burns off