The summer was dry. Fall colors were projected to be rather blah.
But, as it turned out the colors of autumn, in our area, were as glorious as I’ve seen them, in the—Glorioski, can it be true?—twenty-one years we’ve lived in this place. Resplendent trees arrayed in ambers, burgundies, reds, yellows, golds line the roads and rivers and fill the neighbors’ yards. A glorious display.
I think I never saw a tree
So lovely be
Until I read about one
In a fool’s poetry.