Equinox Storm

–by Susan Marsh

Yesterday the aspens stood
In the raking light of afternoon
People stopped to watch as one
By one the glowing leaves
Broke free and floated down.

At dawn, the stern grasp
Of a sodden wind has stripped
The branches of their gold
Their damp remains lie
Cheerless as cold ashes.

Snow sifts from clotted clouds
Clings to trunks and pecks
Against the window.
The last blue folding chair
Sits askew under the trees

Its lap fills up with
Solitude and leaves.