It's fall and dusk
and no one is walking
along the road.

Three steps crumble on a foundation.
A water pump draws dirt and moss from a well.

By a cracked wall, ants balance
bits of bread on their backs.
A deer tiptoes by a jittery squirrel.

The cold rises from a stream
where minnows waltz to and fro,
and back again.

Suspended in silk, a fly's buzzing
gradually subsides.

The wind whispers through the branches,
Tinged leaves tumble in the sway of
elms and oaks and maples.

Shimmering rays
of red and orange and green
grow fainter ...
fainter ...

It's fall and dusk
and no one is walking
along the road.


-Bob Miller