Colors of Fall drape rolling hillsides

          Of cotton wood and birch,

A sectioned, patch-work-quilt of sort, green-

          Splotched where black spruce lurch.

With daylight dwindling as yet another, 

          Ruthless Winter awaits,

Skies come alive with accents of Auroras,

          Beauty no postcard imitates.

          Horizon, bright orange and pink,

High in the canopy, from wind swept haze,

          Extend brick red fingers through acrylic ink.

Looking east, distant hills tempered to a midnight

          Blue against a majestic purple hue,

A few stretched clouds of lilac and lavender,

          The brilliance of colors so true.

A near full, golden moon rears its vastness

          Over the now darkened land,

Its face tarnished, only by a painted, purple haze,

          As if bristle brushed by hand.

Colors blend and fade, as night sets in, tiny,

          Twinkling dots, on cue, come into sight,

The moon, while gaining height, is losing its luster,

          Its giant gold reduced to a lesser white.

The lights of north fall into play with its

           Normal, ghostly, blur of pale green,

Blotting out stars while oozing across black canvas,

          Fading away as if not to make a scene.

The pure moon, higher still, now

          Accompanied by a devil,

A ring in the heavens, encircling the moon,

          A band of faded yellow.

Counting the stars inside the ring; 4 more

          Days of good weather,

If appeasing superstitions in the mind

          Of a well salted old sailor.

 Auroras, now more pronounced, dancing,

          Weaving, rippling dreads,

To the south, pale green drizzles away

          From a lining of watermelon red.

Droning, swirling, as if waving in the wind,

          Like a sheet hung out to dry,

Fading away just to start again; leading edge

          Blue-violet across the sky.

To the north, jotting fingers ribboning;

          Keys of all colors loom over land,

Nature’s silent music, as if played on the

          Colored ivories of a mighty grand.

Throughout the night, designs changing,

          Brilliant colors a plenty,

Stop and start with different tunes, as a

          Conductor directs a symphony.

Less frequent now, colors fade as skies

          Brighten on eastern horizon,

Blood red clouds in blue-gray linings hang

          Over dark hills; a new day has begun.

To northwest, the moon smaller still, now

          Transparent against royal blue sky,

The stars; all but one have disappeared, trailed

          Haze of periwinkle from a jet gone by.

As morning sun crests, neon orange

          Fades into now sky blue.

Spotted clouds, once blood red,

          Take on a passion pink hue.

Distant snowcaps, painted a faint orange,

          Lavender haze across the land,

So ends the night of brilliance and wonder, as

          Day plays to the tune of a different band.

          J.G.W.

          10/8/09