Autumn's Gold Wreath

On the dusty fields of umber be no trail nor trace of summer, October's breath unfolds a wreath of autumn, solid gold; smoked shadow, naked branch leaves like ticker-tape in dance, trees stripped of their potpourri makes the lonely artist grieve- for the many hues and tones the artists inspiration hones pictorial skills of imagescape depicting autumns scent and taste- of hickory, acorns and rain, harvests fertile spread of grain. Hallowed be these precious gifts till their spirits pass and drift. Winter bites with lions teeth, surely Robert Frost would speak, engaged by Autumn's golden wreath- till autumns death thus be complete. ©2014-All rights reserved Frank James Ryan, Jr./FjR © 2016-All rights reserved Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR