A Beautiful Mess of Sunset Dreams

The silence of fall
is overwhelmingly loud.
I walk,
and hear many things.
The stillness -an onset of Christmas-
breathes a cold, sultry air
As a jet propeller
en hiver.
The dusk of fall-
and here, I see the fading sunset
in the west.
I kick molten, dirty leaves of sunset
and the cool air sharpens
the dull of summer remnants.
On the street -alley- an oncoming truck
passes me-
I swoon at the marvel of
the leaves he leaves
in his dust trail. A beautiful mess.

They scatter as is forlorn.

I stare in wonder up at trees,
-losing their sunset,
their sunset dreams-
the leaves that fall
to the silent earth
the leaves that fall
for winter's rebirth

And a whisper-rustle sings out:
I hear the sunset's song
kicking the beautiful mess
of the truck and sidewalks,
I return home
Mom thinks me crazy for coming back out

I stop at the fence to write.

A kitty! comes to me,
as I stop to set fall free
So beautiful, the brown pet is
scampers off eventually by the house
I write by
Never looking back.
That cat
loved
me! Left me, sensing home.

I don't look back. Neither does she.