Sleight-Of-Hand

Sharon Rothenfluch Cooper

Orange-peel colors
slash a tattered moon,
streak wisps of fog
soon spied when scarecrows
rise to heckle witches in flight.

My wizard's wand
pushes the tangerine globe
back in its orbit before
it tumbles on my men-of-straw,
disturbs sorcerers
in their travels,
then rolls down the road
leaving a trail of pumpkin seeds
reflected in its wake.

I fall spellbound each season
when oblique rays
poke peek-holes in the mist.
The eerie glow turns
heaven's arch into an ocean
of teal, then fades to indigo.

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