one honking goose flying south
fourteen yellow leaves on the lawn
and counting
do not a fall make.
fifteen now
a crisp day—blowy and bright
after yesterday's downpour—
sixteen
does not a fall make.
if the geese and the leaves stay put
awhile longer we can
paddle out on the Sheepscot
and pretend
eighteen
we are the very harbingers of
Indian summer.
twenty-four
twenty-eight
thirty-three
ohnevermind.
come fall.
bring it.
you know you are my favorite.