A driveway in autumn.

”In the autumn of our lives,” by Joy Diamond

Autumn is now upon us. The air is fresh, the sky blue, and we breathe deeply thankful we live in such a place as Astoria.

I look at autumn not only as the third season but as 3/4 of my life over. The days grow shorter and soon, before we realize it, winter will be upon us. So we must not tarry but fill our days to the fullest.

The lush green trees of summer have turned, their leaves golden as they fall to the ground. A breeze comes and they scatter. Not yet, not yet, for there is still beauty in them.

”Autumn’s Song,” by Beverley Wallace

Autumn’s in the air

leaves are drifting down

Causing quite a stir

with their gold and brown

Autumn’s kind of misty,

with the smell of smoke

evenings so crispy

summers languor woke

But nights are chill

the moon is cold

I think oh moon you’ve grown old

for autumn’s stolen all your gold

and left you with its silver

”Autumn Calm,” by Anthony Pfannenstiel

When in the darkness of that midnight hour

where dread lights a dismal fire

and the power of despair

descends upon my dreams

I wake up, get dressed

and settle in with myself.

I lie down by muddy marshes,

where clams be my guides.

I lie belly down next to serpentine sloughs

while the Willapa tides skirt around me,

hemming me in like oysters

with their irritable pearls.

Now on my back, I surrender

To the Harvest moon.

I allow myself to be inspected by the stars.

I first hear, then see

Canadian geese, v-shaped,

going who knows where.

But their leader knows.

I come this fall into sea life

where oceanic atmospheres

magnetize the daylights out of me.

How senseless I’ve become.

Yet how calm.