Autumn's Spell

The moon tonight is a somber, orange sliver of itself.

There's a wisp of a cloud in front of it,
making it look as if the man in the moon is speaking.

I imagine he's speaking to me -
some ancient wisdom of fall, of leaves and harvest
and crisp, cool weather.

His voice soothes and enchants me. 

It mingles with the music of the coyotes, singing in the distance.

Once again,
 I am under Autumn's spell.