Fall

by Susan Cameron

I know, I know, it's June 2. Nevertheless...

FALL

We crunch through the autumn woods near the cider mill,
laughing at our Labrador whirling through the leaves.
He caroms like a pinball from tree to tree to tree,
sniffing each and marking each as male dogs will.

So many trees, so little time! His tank is running dry.
He slurps some icy water from the noisy, rushing stream,
and, refreshed and refilled, pursues his doggy dream
of dominance and empire. He raises his leg high.

We laugh, and our breath makes clouds in the cold
that vanish in a heartbeat. "Want some more cider?
Another doughnut? A kiss?" Our spirits grow lighter
with happiness as we wander these woods of brown and gold.

Watch the swirling leaves body-surfing in the breeze,
the sun-sparkled icy streams tumbling toward the lake,
the furry squirrels skittering and chattering as they make
their storehouse preparations for the winter's long freeze.

I'm not afraid of winter. Happy memories of days like this
I've squirreled away like acorns to see me through
a lonely, hungry season -- but I'd rather share with you.
Now give me more sweet cider, and your even sweeter kiss.

Susan Cameron, copyright 1999