Descending to the ground, like kamikazes, flocks of grackle came to feast on Autumn’s spoils.  Chattering and cackling amongst themselves, their mission seemed wholly successful, even celebratory.  Soon they retreated to the trees to plan their next attack.  …

  Come scarlet, come gold, come orange, come umber Ablaze are the trees before winter’s slumber Come brusque, wholesome winds clear, crisp and refreshing Donned is the earth in Fall’s luminous dressing Come leaves underfoot, crunch, rustle and crackle Busy are the squirrels,…