Fall

Orange leaves now scattered by winds
now made litter in our lawns
now herded through manufactured breeze;
neighbors commiserate
about the efforts mother nature imposes
upon us. Yesterday Pliny the Elder
condemned a salamander for the crime
of not being what we hoped
and feared it might be, charred remains
indistinguishable from wood ash.
Tonight we are drinking apple cider
warm with cinnamon.