In The Fall

We played outside,
You and I, that day,
Rolling in the wind-chilled grass,
Plucking clover, shredding
Envy-green leaves in our little
Fingers stained with dirt.
The yard was our kingdom,
And we the rulers, or
Perhaps knights off on
A quest for glory,
Winter cold battering against
The armor of our coats,
Our unhappy dog
As our noble steed,
Or perhaps not so unhappy,
Patient, so patient, and
Never a growl, through
Our games and shrill laughter,
Cruel tugs on ears and tail.
The wind came, howling fast
Through the pecan trees,
Rattling pods down upon the ground,
A rain of plenty,
And the knights were no more,
Instead just two children
And one lonely dog,
Watching a rain of gold
And red and brown.
A chase ensued, small
Hands grasping, stretching,
Chasing this autumn snow,
Elusive prey, and so cunning,
Each successful catch within our fingers
Crumbling to dust.