Dark Trees

I was outside Tuesday evening
looking at the night sky.
Chris bought a telescope at a yard sale--
I thought I'd try it out.

I saw Jupiter and three of its moons.
and craters on the Moon as well.

But bathed in the bright moonlight
I noticed the trees
towering above me still full with leaves.

They were dark.

The lightening bugs that made them shimmer
during the nights of summer--
were gone.

Dark and foreboding.
Silhouetted by the moon.

They were not yet autumn trees--
robed with red and orange leaves.
Nor were they the eerie trees of Halloween--
leaf-less, sketching scary shadows on the lawns
for the ghouls and goblins to dance with
in the moonlight.

No--these were still summer trees.
Standing tall against the winds and rains.
Reveling in hot summer sun
providing cool shade to travelers
pausing beneath their branches.

Yet, they were dark.

I imagined them gloomy.
As if they sensed the change.

The coolness of the still not yet autumn breeze
swept across my bare arms.

I paused, breathing deeply,
savoring both the musky scent of summer
and the sweet smell of recently mowed grass.

A dog barked in the distance
returning me to my driveway.

I had drifted off
to a summer-bathed sandy beach.

The light in the window reminded me
that the time for sleep had come.

And dreams.

The dark trees stood tall.
Nodding, it seemed
in the cool gentle breeze.

Autumn was at hand.