Barometer

Autumn comes
the upturned bowl of brassy sky
lifts, releases
the hot, sticky air; cool winds scour the earth
clean, wipe away damp blotches of humidity.

The neighborhoods grow quiet;
daytime echoes of children
replaced with an increased rustle of leaves--
trees changing costume
the pliant susurration of green
replaced with crackling golden brown orange
bonfire red.

September deer, grown fat and sassy,
boldly stare me down from ten paces off
before leisurely fleeing the open yard,
not even bothering with silence.
Soon enough this will change;
despite the ever-crackling leaves
they will bound and leap like ghosts,
wary and nervous,
as the rustling of painted forest
becomes punctuated with rifle report;
the smell of woodsmoke
wafts though the cooling evening air
and the sky is
blue blue blue blue