Fall doesn’t really descend upon us---
Rather it creeps in on the coattails of
Blustery storms and brilliant mornings.
The sun flashes through the red and yellows
Of thinning trees.
Summer’s relentless greens grudgingly give way
To the ambers and burgundies of the season---
Only to discard the whole array
As impish winds swirl and dishevel those golden tresses.
Autumn, in her slow progression can become a
Stuffing old sins down sewage drains
And scattering her billions of Acorn children
With total abandonment.
November sneaks up on us
Until we hear her crackling beneath our feet’
And we look up, catching our frosty breath,
And see her barren limbs pointing to a frozen sky.
Then we realize, she has done it again—in every display
More dazzling than the last;
And if we are very lucky, she closes her show
Wrapped in a whole ermine robe.
GLORIA BLACK 1994
Autumn 2016 11/22/2016 Thanksgiving at Richardson City Hall
The beauty of November is often most celebrated in Maine and Vermont And Connecticut—the New England States of America, but Texas is not to be left out in the scenic treasures of fall.
Just check out the Hill Country on Turkey Day. The many parks of Richardson (Texas) display the color guards of Autumn and we are grateful. The year 2000 was fabulous for color, and I snapped pictures of Evergreen and Northlake like crazy, and made a photo book to remind me. 1994 was no slouch either—so splendid I wrote this poem, and I hope it creates a deep appreciation for the magical gift of color.
noun, plural ermines (especially collectively) ermine.
1. an Old World weasel, Mustela erminea, having inits winter color phase a white coat with black at the tip of the tail. Compare stoat.
2. any of various weasels having a white winter coat.
3. the lustrous, white, winter fur of the ermine, oftenhaving fur from the animal's black tail tip insertedat intervals for contrast.