Nostaligic moment, folks.

Vanguards

When autumn leaves bloom,
the roses swell, pregnant,
and the sun goes south
by slow looping increments

and winter arrives
by stages,
by borrowing bits of summer
here and there
and failing to return them,

then stars grow brittle,
and earth is draped
with groundcloth white
while trees are painted
starkly.

I wrote that in college, twenty-something years ago.  It's still my fav.