Leaves falling in a slow descent on this sunny windless morning;
    aside, a glassy rivertop reflecting from another State.
Slow is this winters coming, or at least the falls demise,
   the reflected being late sprouted greeneries.
The house vibrating from the pouncing woodpecker pinching peanut kernels
    from within a copper wired tube intercepting the river’s view,
and which waxes this poetry.