The last maple leaf

having let go of the branch 

second-guessed its choice.

 

Old rickety steps

each step strewn with leaf debris

leading nowhere new.

Last plucked from the vine,

summer's juicy gift lingers

destined for my tongue.

The sky flows towards 

upended kayaks resting

on the inlet shore.

Bookended by oaks

glowing sunset confection,

sweet sherbet colors.

Oh, Mother Morro!

Steadfast refuge for wildlife;

sacred ancient land.

In the black abyss

glorious color shifting

revealing a path.

A gondola skims
across the bay, ushering
the evening's peace.