Cattails and reed canary grass

The Last Autumn Hunt

Brandon looked at his Springer Spaniel, Sampson. Eyes cloudy, he trembled as Brandon lifted him in his crate for the hunt. Sampson licked his cheek.


The first cattail slough Sampson jumped in, but never emerged; and Brandon found him. Devastated, Brandon picked Sampson up, cradled him, and walked to his vehicle as his tears flowed.


Louis Winslow.

beech forest

The Nature of Things

Spring smiled and spoke of youth and hope and new beginnings.

Summer sweated.

Winter froze up.

Autumn replied, “Close your eyes for a few minutes and notice how the yellows and reds and browns are not forgotten. Feel the breeze; listen to the leaves speak of change. And reflect on the nature of life.”



M. Kashgarian.


Autumn’s Threat

Spring? A joke. Summer? Not worth mentioning.

Buffoons, both of them.

This year is MY year. I shall prevail; Winter, my nemesis will not beat me.

I am Autumn the Great and Powerful—I will not go quietly into the snow.

I stand strong. Ready.

Prepare for colors the likes you have never seen before.


Robert P. Wills.

Girl with leaves

Holding Hands

I look down at little Anna, holding my hand, excited brimming over at every kick of a leaf, I see her life ahead, seasons changing, the great times to come and I smile. Autumn is the best days of the year. Soft leaves underfoot. The silence of nature preparing for the sleep and reawakening.



Gerard Mulligan.


Humpy’s Dreams

The boys of Eldridge Street threw and batted the ball till darkness forced them indoors. Humpy ran home to his worried mom.

“Where were you?”

“Playin’ ball. Sorry, Mom.”

“Never mind.”

An October moon shone through Humpy’s bedroom window that night, burnished golden radiance. He slept, dreaming of falling red maple leaves and Yankee pennants.



Ed Coonce.



The chill of the autumn wind cut through my top. Crouched, the hedge gave no relief or cover. Leaves dropped in the dimming light, obscuring the view. Pain filled my stomach, my feet cold. There was a crunch on dry leaves.


“You took your time.”


“Where are the onions?”

“Sorry, they were out.”



Julia Tson.


Leaves Fall

Yellow, twisting, wrinkled. The barest gust of wind enough to tear apart my skin. Soon winter will have me.


T. Edmund Jenkin.


Change of Seasons

It was inevitable that our story would come to an end. It was called a summer romance for a reason.

Across the lake the leaves are a showcase in vibrant shades of red and gold.

Yet, as I walk to the dock; I see leaves turned crisp and brown, leaves that crumble beneath my feet.



Deborah Lean.


One More Try

Dejected, he flipped through the pages of the on-line dating website. He was ready to give up. He’d been at this for two years. Why even … wait, who was this? The picture showed sunlight glinting off auburn hair, green eyes piercing his soul. Her name was Autumn, his favorite season. Perhaps one more try.



Jacci Turner.

Ramses II

Fall of Ramses

In the 50th year of our Lord Ramses, a great calamity fell. I, Seth, was chosen to tell the tale. Ramses was ill, dying. Our crops withered, our children dying. The plague came to blight my Lord’s empire in early autumn. A great cry came from our wives throats! Oh Ramses, save us! Too late…



Kerry Hall.


In Autumn Descendance

On a blustery, windy, autumn day, she descended from sleep. She awoke, walking in her neighborhood park, and wondered how she had gotten there. The night had passed, as always, with the usual arguments. Of money, sex, and … sheer sadness. She sat on the cold park bench, defeated, lost. Where now? Where can she go?



Kerry Hall.


Not Even the Trees

Warmly colored leaves soften the cold forest floor beneath me. I scour the sky for meaning, in vain.

Bare branches encroach upon the view, keeping secrets. I shriek for answers that will never come, and tears burn unimpeded into my ears.

But no one’s listening to me, not even the trees.


And you’re still gone.



Rebecca Barray.


Falling for a Week

Monday, you met on the bridge. She demanded discretion. You stood close, touching, whispering. The river rushed below, pushing up cool air.

You called; she didn’t answer.

You texted; she didn’t text.

Friday, you stood on the bridge. Embarrassed, you stepped back, into a woman. Picking each other up, staring, smiling, hoping she’s not married?



David Seguin.


The Book

She stands at the window, thinking “already.”

The wind blows, leaves swirl about, chasing one another like children at play.

“It will be winter soon.”

“Another year gone, another chapter written,” he says, embracing her.

“If our life was a book, would anybody read it?” she asks.

“I hope so. Otherwise, we missed the point.”



O.D. Trebor.


Mirage of Autumn’s Dance

“Would you like to dance?” I asked her with hesitant feelings.

“Sure.” Her soft voice blew on the breeze, gently.

Beauty swayed in circles with freedom. With romantic red leaves falling, I held her waist with a sigh of the mild gentle wind. But I was hypnotized, deeply. Suddenly, in a cold wind, she faded.


N.G. Dian.


By The Numbers

Six days after our tenth wedding anniversary. 3½ month old daughter lighting our lives. One hour drive home from work. For two minutes I thought my wife asleep as I arrived.

But one arrhythmic heart had stopped already. Zero hope.

How do you explain such things to a beautiful growing girl? She doesn’t remember mommy.



W.J.R. Halyn.


The Nature of Government

As the trees shed their leaves, the bankrupt government passed a bill demanding they pick them all up again. With only the law of gravity as their defense, the trees lost their case and were all cut down to make way for a giant car park. The government celebrated. You can tax motorists, not trees.



Mike Olley.


For My Broken Heart

Michelle sat on the porch swing, watching Nick walk away.

Tears rolled . . . dripped . . . then dried. She blinked.

Wind blew; leaves fell. She shivered.

The sun set. Stars appeared, then disappeared. The sun rose again. She squinted.

Birds chirped. A school bus rumbled past. She stood.

The world didn’t stop.

She showered and left for work.



Rebecca Barray.


The Fall Guy

“Love me, Tiffany?”


“Sometimes, David.”


“What kind of answer is that?”


“The kind you get.”




“Don’t take it personal.”


“How else am I supposed to take it?”


“However you want.” Brittle,dried, sherbet colored leaves fell past David’s head.


“I love you.”


“That’s nice, David. Let’s get our coats. It’s getting cold out here.”



Eugene Chun.



If I drove distracted, know I gazed into the weave and texture of gilded leaves. Know I glimpsed a quilted river of fallen vermillion, winding along the roadside, vine maples blazing in random rays of sun. If I soar off the road of my life, and fail to rise, know my eyes brimmed with beauty.



Diana Peach.