Her dog is walking her this afternoon
upon a sidewalk carpeted with leaves,
and she detects the winter coming soon
for it’s too cool today for T shirt sleeves.
An apple is reducing in her hand
as she ingests each tart and crispy bite;
it triggers every salivary gland
like fog inspiring redwood to its height.
The foliage is dappled as it dies,
and two-toned is the apple that she eats.
Now colors blend beneath the autumn skies
and soon the rain will wash the city streets.
Tradition may link promises to spring,
but fall foretells the winter’s watering.