The crunch of my apple
intrudes on the blue sky
framed by golden leaves.

A trumpeting scream
echoes in the basin...
        golden aspens shiver.

At trails end
   a tumbleweed struggles
to get started.

For awhile
     the flicker joins my amble;
                 always five feet ahead.

Skittish mallards -
   the coots
   don't mind my shadow.

Arranged in a vee:
Scorched snags
Against blue sky. 

September wind on
        the snake's back
                makes him sluggish.

On the trail
     the snake
        causes a brief detour.

With a roar
          the wind descends -
a pinetop snaps...crashes.

                 Silent in shadow:
The young buck
     watches my progress on the trail.

It's been said before:
          windstorm in the pine tops
           echoes the sound of the sea.

   Beneath fire-darkened trunks,
circular colonies
of red fireweed.

Faded scarlet, buttery yellow,
     sway above the tawny trail
to Fisher Point.

Frantic tail
fills the hole.
      Winter preparation.

Chit, chit, chit!
         Autumn-busy squirrels
          aren't as noisy as other hikers.

Random rill
     capers and cuts a course....
                    rewriting the old road.

Stepping from shadowed forest,
   sunlight diffused -
fog wraps distant peaks.

Pines and fir drip
      in early morning mist -
Rainbow over brown ferns.

Rusted water wheel;
   sits silent in the ripples
        rushing past.

pentagram of twigs
     'neath the gnarled remains
            of a grey sycamore

Wild grape
        twines the Sycamore
over scores of cairns.

Old stone wall
sporting lichens
by the irrigation channel