autumnal walk

in the early morning
with delicate frost under foot
i walked among
the mountains and rivers
in their twilight toward
the long awaited slumber

the loons are no longer calling about
green needles now in raw sienna and burnt umber
occasional sun breaking onto
tenebrous mountain tails
the last splashes of gold, payne grey and terre verte
with the prosaic bow river bubbling about
i was just a lost dot
in the grandeur of the late autumnal poise

soon this land will sleep
blanketed in the woolly clouds
withholding all lives within
closer toward the quietness
where one can hear
a drop of a single snow flake

i thought of many lives past
and the cobwebs of history
of memories,
tarnished with patina of regrets, love, nostalgia
as i must let go if
i were to go on

i wept
along the river
before it freezes
into the long wintry silence
trapping all my words
within its taciturn solitude