Umberland

Umberland

driving northward on gray tarmac
the only greens are grounded.
the living lumber showing umber
and gentle slumber comes soon.
before the snows settle in drifts
on ash and aspen and limber pine.

early morning mists rise
mingling earthy scents.
the first rays break the horizon
birthing sunbows at dawn.

russets rustling on flexing limbs
waving frantically at the winds whims.
autumnal shadowplay by forest and light
natural semaphor signals display fall’s finale.

passing through umberland at 35 miles per hour
only the breeze whispers over the windshield.
agitated yellows and angry reds blur by
flitting and skirting, cross my vision and
become a memory, as cool blue skies appear.

now muted colors dash on by,
as more and more branches bare themselves.
opening up to a cold crisp embrace
a winter’s tale will again be told.

gliding to a halt, flashing lights ahead,
yellow red, yellow red, yellow red.
a little one picks up a fallen friend.
she twirls around in her nimble fingers
today’s flag, flashing umber.
then skips along, hopping steps
eager to show a color not numbered

This poem was written by my friend, Big John, or BJ for short. He lives on Long Island, New York and is a garden professional as well as poet.