Off Shore

Beneath the ashen sky
A burly breeze
Dances down the branches of trees,
Sending yellow and red leaves
Whirling and spinning.

Like a warm old memory
To surround me;
I pull my tattered brown jacket around me.
Crisply I walk through rustling leaves
Down the winding path-

Turning at the bend,
Where the woodlands abruptly end.

There I watch with wonder as the
Forest tumbles from the banks
Into the blue-cold depth of the ocean.
Autumn is lost…

Windswept and washed-
To be tossed once again
on the distant shore
In hues of rust and gold.

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