The leaves that once were lush with spring
assume their fall dimension.
You witness the progression
from curling lemon green to startling red,
cajoling gold, shy russet, bold maroon.
You close your eyes to hear, uncut, uncounted
colors calling down the stalling year.
With the ear's eye you find
scarlet in the robin's warning "plik,"
burnt sienna in the fox's whine,
puce in the crickets' returning metronome.
Glistening, the leaves wear their reason.
Down autumnal scales, magenta's voice
intones its sudden sun-threaded advice:
Let color's sound spill over you, draw you deep
into this listening season.