autumn
the trickster has come in the night.
in the brisk dark chill the raven came
and painted the leaves -
orange, yellow, red -
with the tips of his wings he replaced
summer's familiar green with colours from a
warmer palette
though the air has turned cold.
the stars must have twinkled and
the moon he made must have blinked
but clouds had come between them and the
trees, both heavy with rain.
autumn in this western land -
fall -
the trickster left his mischief behind,
chuckling away the changing seasons,
to be marveled at by those whom he still considers
visitors.