These days, inching up upon November, we have the thick heavy snowfall
from last night , as more and more leaves fall down upon it.
I'm imagining bears and chipmunks diving into their winter's rest.
The Connecticut streams all the colors reflected from the skies, and
down by the Eagle Sanctuary the puddles become shimmering golden blue ponds.
It's a no car day, so I'm out early, running that big boys dog through the woods,
going around to a few nearby places for a small quiet meet and greet,
then out out across the conservation field, now that the first snowfall
buffers us from ticks, to hungrily catch sight of the lower fields,
to see where the young coyote went last night.
To stand at the top of the hill, listening as the Goshawk calls out to mate or child,
and the call is returned, resonating out across the soon to be bare forestland.
To gaze back at our house, nestled just so upon the foothill of
the small mountain range. As the Fall Over Friday begins.
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