I mistook a warm late-Autumn Sunday
for a summers afternoon,
it started out so mild.
So, I took the half hour drive up
Stone Ledge Road
to see my youngest sons house.

But not so see him.

He and that women he married,
(more her than him)
figure an invitation should come
before a visit.
That woman’s a little, formal
for my taste, but

he married her anyway.

Then he bought that house
up near the ridge line,
all those oaks and maples.
“Leaves’ll make your Autumns miserable”,
I told him. but,

he bought it anyway.

When I rounded the curve near his house,
I heard the racket that damn
power mower-mulcher makes.
He bought it at Lowe’s last spring,
little John Deer thing…
big cushy seat, steering wheel
the size of a semi’s.
There he was, criss-crossing his
leafed up front yard,
big barrels, strapped to the back of the mower,
filling with mulched leaves,
his son, his second, four year old Simon,
sitting on his lap, making believe
he was steering that noisy clunker,
biggest smile on their faces,
like cleaning up dried old leaves
was some kind of big game.

Simon saw me.
He hopped off his Dads lap,
ran up the drive, waved.
I honked as I drove by.

Anyway, they were busy.

I drove my truck up to the
narrow road side parking place
at the end there,
got out to look.
Way out there, North and West, the Catskills.
Some trees in the valleys kept their color, still,
like a box of Kix spilled over the woods.
Higher up, but for the evergreens,
the trees are bare.
And even that early in the afternoon,
I could see the darkening coming.
A cold chill caught me in my chest.
It shivered down my spine.
Couldn’t stop shaking.
Got back into my truck, drove down the hill,
past Simon and his Dad,
right straight to my place.

Used to be,
Nancy’d be warming something up,
but not for a while now,
since she’s passed.
Maybe one of her old quilts,
maybe still holding her scent.

Somethin’ how quick the cold
comes upon me.