In the autumn, I walk up the mountain
over dusty track, scratched with dry grass.
Here I survey my world.
It tumbles under me, in spatters of red, gold, evergreen
then shatters. At the crest of the lake, shifting colour
from sockeye salmon to rainbow trout.
The sun sits in the far country, where the mountains
hug the feet of the lake and bear come down the hills.
Collecting for hibernation as I collect crisp sunlight.
Heavy as the golden delicious on the orchard out back.
The grass ruffles. A pheasant darts and the geese call
farewell as they arrow through the blue backed sky.
Eventually fading. Into the smudge of mountains, peaked in
cloud.
I thank my world for the future it offers.
Saluted with a warm mug of earl grey,
sipped on the trail back down.
As winter creeps up the side of the mountain.
