Drab, You Say?
Gray skies, chill air,
goldenrods blown
to tufts of tan,
over all a lace of sound:
goldfinches and geese,
chips and clicks and calls.
Flocks of tiny birds
in touch with one another,
moving just below
the understated aster fizzle,
a force of sparrows,warblers with
eye ring, wing bars, and without,
the faint suggestion of green flash,
tan hinting copper,
gold to tarnished silver
ripe, elegant, here.