Ides of November

Fiery carnelian and topaz leaves
Upon the trees, the bare tops swaying in the breeze,
I walk upon a path, smelling the musk
Of a lover, the leaves in their mulching
Give off the subtle scent of a beautiful woman;
It hints ever so slightly, as the Buck
With its white tail raised like a mercy flag
Crosses the path in the flash of an eye.
Be careful, calm, do not stir the beast
Lest it trample you, but go on your way.
At the last, a little chipmunk interrupts
My prayers, in a frantic stirring
Preparing for Winter's stores
By finding the fat of fall's harvest.