The leaves have fallen
On the brink of winter poised
Bitter winds coming
What is it about fall that makes us want to write poems?
Perhaps it's the vibrant colors? Or is it something more?
Our vibrant colors are gone, replaced now with rust and bareness. We poise on the knife edge of winter. By tomorrow, the winds will whip and the ground will be white.
But we will always remember fall.
On Wednesday, my guest photographer and I walked by the Broome County Courthouse near Binghamton, New York. It was so peaceful, just us and the squirrels.
I got closer and closer, stopping to click.
And finally, almost too close.
Where workers ate lunch
Only the squirrels remain
Preparing for snow.
Day 19 of NaBloPoMo.