A humming word

Sunlight dapples on an antiquated Writing table. From the drawer, semi closed, A rusty nib pen Peeks and twirls On the writing board It taps a letter pad That rumbles And lays morose The ink pen awaits And when the moonlight glitters on the table, the letter pad calls out to the ink pen that feebly walks to the writing pad and writes a poem before slipping into the semi closed drawer

Dear Autumn, I remember when summer passes and winter doesn't freeze the county yet, you’d be there – in red and green and yellow – waiting for us walk by the lakes and ogle at you. Autumn or Fall is when the leaves fall to make way for the trees to go bare during winter but look, how you’ve made loss festive too. Oh you colorful magnificence – none could escape you if they walked the Midwestern highway where you are holding the colorful leaves – like a placard to pause and remind us of the oncoming gloom of winters. Like a poster of a movie. But your leaves are colorful and despite the vermin that nibble on you, you look splendid and  your leaves are still sown at the back page of many notebooks. The leaves are dried - autumn has passed but your imprint remains. Love, Someone who lived in Wisconsin A state of deers, milk, cheese coffee, artists, and Bocce Ball pictures: n i v i e, sanju (my cousin)