On The Last Ride to Brady's Run Lake

fallen leaves

like debris

float dreamily across the lake 

a multitude poised 

breezlessly on trees

till the stormy coldness undresses time

freezing my thin-iced soul to think

it might be the last ride then 

suddenly 

ducks splash flappingly

excitedly before levitation

before the season 

covered with snow

coats steep slippery Beaver roads

 making it home

before mother nature closes the gate

assured when to return 

when crocus sprout through

 in springtime rain

thankful for renewal

the sun will bring

October. 14, 2021