ON THE BRINKOn the brink of fall,
the leaves decide their deciduous fate.Autumn comes like a red-haired witch
riding the winds on a thick-strawed broomstick.The forests stun the eyes, visioning postcard vistas:
layers of gold and orange, reds and purples.Soon all the trees will shake off their colored complements,
and the black bony fingers will thrust themselves starkagainst the whiteness of the brink of winter.
Copyright © Adel Gorgy 2011 Photograph Red For Stanley H. Barkan Poem (On the Brink)
Cross-Cultural Communications Art & Poetry Series Broadsides # 11
