My yoke fellow who talks about Fall and yellowing of the foliage.
He always carries his untidy diary and there are few blank pages left behind.
He wants me to scribble something on those torn pages.
I write; Hey! Chum you may call it Fall but I pronounce as Autumn.
Anyway this is the season between Summer and Winter.
My dear yardmaster, your yardstick is not enough to measure this lengthy journey.
Only the invisible who knows about the Unit?
Dedication to my poetess friend Sandra.Fowler who paints 'Autumn' in her poems attractively without any brush marks.
[ This notion pushed me today while I was jogging along the Manhattan beach.]
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-creeps-stealthily-like-a-serpent/
