October is here

A cold day, though only October,
And the grass has grayed
Like the frost that hardened it
This morning.

And this morning

After the wind left
With its pile of clouds
The broken fence steamed, sunlight spread
Like seed from one field
To another, out of a bare sycamore
Sparrows lifted above the ridge.

In the ditch an owl shuffled into a nest
Of old leaves and cotton,
A black tassel of lizard flapping
From its beak. Mice
and ants gathered under the flat ground
And slipped downward like water,
A coyote squatted behind granite,
Her ears tilting
Towards a rustle, eyes dark
With winter to come.