In my last blog, I wrote about Emily Dickinson, famed poet and Mr. Norcross’ first cousin, once removed. While I was walking the trails yesterday (you can see a virtual tour here) I was inspired to write a poem myself.
The wind had picked up out of the northwest and the lingering oak leaves, in their umber splendor, were evicted from the canopy. As they fell, the woods came alive with color and sound. It reminded me of springtime when tangles of towhees pass through, tossing up leaves as they search for food. The breeze brought many of these metaphorical towhees to the woodland floor, the true peak color of fall turning to the somber palette of winter.
by Jennifer Ohop
Leaves wing on the breeze
Trees shedding autumn towhees
Rufous hills depart