Winter Coming

a smokestack behind rows of trees turning with the crisp autumn breeze; rising far above the steam furled air are colors of fall showing they are going, somewhere - a bird on the wing southbound... in its backwards spring - past clouds building snow, summer can't wait it just has to go - Venus dances in the west Big-Dipper scoops the Milky-Way, soon gray clouds will block them all as night takes over day - so very still is the silent out-beyond that freezes the soul of the old fishing pond - there's not a sound nor even one birdsong now that the warm wind of summer is long gone; with what is coming and what has went natures glorious bounty is once again fully spent -