we climb the hill to roll back down it
we climb again to sit on it
Linus hops rock to rock talking about bugs
and prying caps off acorns to “help the squirrels”
Joy cruises the bench seat, where I sit
watching to see what I will see:
on yonder hills shadows come and go with the sun
some hills are a patchwork of tawny, evergreen and already gray
others homogeneous cognac, like aging leather
a spider soars on a strand paralleling a long-tailed airplane
seagulls. seagulls? are they lost?
wind blusters through branches overhead
our great tree gets gaunter by the minute
from trunk central, the earth is transmogrified from amber to still green
those diasporic leaves crunch under a squirrel tag game
a beetle disguised as a rock dodders across stones carpeted with soft moss and fungal doilies
happy Halloween, beetle
watched to see what I would see
