the cold rain taps upon my roof
with a pitter patter; dancing
among the cold, sunburnt trees
as leaves slowly file their way
down from sky to ground
in a symphony of colors
orange, yellow, red… soon branches
will sustain no more
and bare winter’s cold fingers
will grip upon the distance
with blue, white and silver…
yet, for now, listening to the
boisterous rapping of rain,
pondering change, i sit with a kitten
warming herself in the folds of
my lap and smile at the
constancy of nature’s serenade