Haiku- Autumn 2017

goldenrod sunlight

down stretched shadows

of late september

schoolyard,

kicking a stone along

just because

in the porch light shadows

always the curious

raccoon

geese flying south

yet only one story ever

to call my own

indian summer-

graciously, the elderly man

says hello

outbound morning train

but stirring in the oak leaves,

ghosts still left behind

three days of rain

and then its november,

only november

into the sunset

empty branches stretch beyond

both hope and memory

northern cloud bank-

an overloaded bookshelf

bringing in winter