November 8, 2019 7.02 a.m. 29 degrees

by John Stanizzi

Panoplied in cold, fall has charred the entire landscape, as memories 

overtake my thoughts – visions of dragonfly days,
     and on the first morning the

notification by the great blue heron on the
     far side of the pond that the

dawns ahead would be filled with myriad marvels; he was right.