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Autumn fire blows fiercley on moon flare,
brown, red leaves twirl and dance to the woods floor.
The wind whispers through thin chilly clear air,
and laughter glides and floats down with a sigh-
beyond hills of green with the hiss of leaves.
Squirrels gather the nuts for hybernation;
the long wintry cold grey. stillness of day
awaits the animals of nature; smoke curls
out of rooftops into open blackness.
Leaves are freckling with my poetrie-
what answers lay hidden invisible?
The moon swiftly, sinks down out of mountains;
and reflects illusions of thoughts.
And i thought i spot my poetrie in leaves.
Celine Berghmans
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