Autumn

by Margaret V Doran

this morning dawned in crisp, fresh frost
overnight the trees transformed themselves from green
and tossed their brilliant, burnished leaves upon the ground
I cannot avoid the crack and snap of autumn treasure
take up my rake and in measured moments
have a loose and colorful mountain piled high
arms out, I launch myself in prone assault
and revel in the riotous leaves' pure pleasure

Margaret Doran lives in rural Oregon, writing poetry in the middle of the night and on her commute to her brand new "day job" using a digital voice recorder. She and her husband produce music concerts and she has recently chosen St. Mary's College of the Woods to complete her BA on-line. She uses her middle name for this poem so that readers will not automatically attribute it to a gender-specific voice at the outset. You may read more of her poetry at her website, The Story Page.