You do so delightfully capture this my favorite poetic season. The transition from life to death - the "falling" and "sliding" speak the unique movement of this season that you so beautifully portray. Well done, George.

this powerfully worded ode possesses the wisdom of the Old Man and the Sea. and the lesson is the Fish, which we struggle so hard to get on board, this Fish which is essentially our lives, but as we lug the flesh of it to port, it is reduced to skeletal remains, by baser appetites unknown to us, something in the order of what will happen to the flesh of us, we the Fish who are being carted to shore by the Seasons.

I love the way you made this poem glide into Fall. Soft flexible leaves transform into crisp firey blankets covering our forest floor. Fall is my favourite Season. Thanks for your brilliant write.

Very astute comparison. (Every now and then I feed those seagulls with old bread Richard collects and keeps in his storage area.)