Late October walk

I smelled wood smoke for the first time this afternoon
I stepped out into the amber afternoon with my dog
And could see the dogwoods in transition, green and crimson,
The sugar maples slowly turning to bright orange
And I could feel the pine needles beneath my feet,
Their musk burned my nostrils as I walked.

But it is the crispness of the breeze on my face
And the clarity of the atmosphere in late October
Mixed with the swirling cream of a morning fog
Which catches my eye and halts my passing,
To stop and take notice of the slow dying of the season
And recognize the relentless onset of Winter.