Author Jay Sturner

Officially autumn, but the leaves have only just begun to change: a splash of red here, a wisp of yellow there. It’s as if an uncountable number of dripping paintbrushes are poised over the land, silently waiting to angle down and start their work.

I pack away summer clothes to a soundscape of Vivaldi. The songs of summer birds have settled like dust. I stand at the window, watch leaves fall across the yard, overcome by a sensation I cannot deny: My heart is in a dance with autumn's return. (From the book  Selected Poems 2004-2007 )