Summer’s verdure still holds these hills,
But the green hue is becoming softer
A suspense of colors to come.
When first introduced to the forest a brief time ago,
Annie, the walker hound,
bumbled about with springtime innocence
where fallen logs and shallow creek pools gave her pause,
greener than the hemlock boughs she stumbled beneath.
Now, she glides through the forest
with practiced ease,
amongst the harbingers of autumn,
purple aster and yellowing milkweed.
As Annie races by again,
--she’ll make a good coonhound, I’m certain--
I spy a reflection
in a mirrored pond,
and catch a glimpse of winter.