can you hear Gaia sigh as she shakes

out her hair and prepares for winter’s nap,

shedding her last gaudy cloak in prolonged

glory? her jeweled mantle floats

to somnolence with the ease of long

practice. she bares her breast

– audacious –

afore the cleansing of Boreas’

howls.

do you catch the whisper

of a hum when woolly bears wriggle

in prognosticating bands? they march

to the drum of equinox’ recession

       /rhythm immemorial/

cement their status in seasonal

lore. migrant flocks bring

horns to symphonic chorus

– clamorous –

while hawk oversees autumn

waning.