I sit on my lawn chair facing the west.

Watching a squirrel tend to her nest.

Bright glowing gold is burning up the sky

Sun so bold it you can’t look at it with your eye.

Dry curling leaves skip across the street

Tapping and tossing they dance around my feet.

A whisper of smoke speaks softly to the air

Telling a story of autumn that is special and rare.

Nature’s paintbrush splashes, streaks and twirls.

Turning pale clouds into bright brilliant pink swirls

A man on his bike just rode swiftly by

Pedaling on quickly, he bids farewell to the orange sky.

This warm November day is just about done.

Soon cold and clouds will slip past the sun.

The darkness eases into the day as shadows grow tall.

A black velvet blanket will soon dim the orange ball.