It is only September 1, but
autumn arrived this morning
on the wings of honking geese --
anxious travelers in a clear sky.

The birch tree in the front yard,
its brown leaves rattling
in the ocean breeze,
leans like a tired farmer.

Pea pods in the garden
shrivel on brown vines,
and the pumpkins, though still small,
loll about with an orange tinge.

Tonight I will pull my fleece blanket
down from its nest in the closet,
in case winter arrives
on the breath of tomorrow.