How Autumn Begins

by Don Thompson

Nothing close to a chill this morning,
but cool enough to remember
how the cold felt and to know
that it’s coming soon.

Leaves yellow on the edges,
dying from outside in;
green fruit that never got started,
and one last fig that must be ripe:

Soft, but the skin’s leathery.
It plucks easily, though,
and tastes as sweet as anything
summer had to offer.