Falling into the leaves I see death. Things are dying all around and yet the sun is like a dragon breathing life into the landscape and bombarding my senses... All of my senses are in overdrive! My sense of smell is tantalized by the wafting smoke of campfires. I open my mouth and taste the creamy roasted marshmallow that is almost melting off the end of my stick. Visually I embrace the vibrant array of colors - canary-yellow, navel-orange, brilliant reds and terracotta colored leaves, some being strewn about by the wind and some hanging on for dear life to the timbers that nurtured their existence. Standing motionless in the forest the only sound I hear is the crispy crunch of leaves and snapping of brittle twigs. This orchestra created by the scurrying about of squirrels. Inferior creatures searching in earnest for a place to bury their sustenance for the upcoming winter. Though the surrounding splendor ignites my senses and death is all around, it causes no fear. The death of summer is inevitable as it gives birth to fall, a smorgasbord for my senses.

Here I sit upon this shelf

Waiting to be found

I hope that someone finds me

And likes the way I'm bound

The letters that these pages hold

Were written from the heart

My creator gave them meaning

I felt it from the start 

Books have feelings too, you know

 Because we're  wonderfully made

So don't discard me quickly

And toss me in the grave.

Give me a chance and you may find

I'm more than my sleek cover

So much more inside of me

Waiting to be discovered

For everything bad that happens

something good happens

well that may be so

it may not always happen

surely not to the same soul

does that mean it is not so?

Where does the wind come from

And where does it go?

The branches swaying in the breeze

As the wind blows to and fro.

Where does the wind come from

And where does it go?

I have not and you have not

Seen it yet it blows.

It's passing when the trees

lay down their weary heads

although we cannot see it

it's wafting force is spread. 

Head over the toilet

(or head over head)

saliva is rising

Filling with dread

Chunks of fun filtered

With drink

Oh my

does this head ever stink!

Fire and smoke from witches brew

Ascending on this harvest moon

Smells like charbroil overdone

Taste that lingers on the tongue

Seated on the bails of straw

Chilled to the bone, at once I saw

A creature from the black lagoon

With vampire teeth and threat of doom

The tractor driver now gone missing

The creature closing in is hissing

Our wagon speeding fast downhill

Only choice is to abandon ship!

Blazing sun beating down

water lapping the shore

calling my name

I crash through the door.

Finally rambling

barefoot in the grass

head first in the waterchilled-out at last.