Lake speaks of autumn

 Drifting all the way to the shaded side of the lake.
There the chills of early autumn accumulate.
And tell of coldness of a coming winter.
From the frigid rocky bottom .
To where maple and oak roots seek the porous shore.
The shade and murk of the water,
make it impossible to see through.

First leaves fall discolored onto the blackness.
Something darts underneath them.
The forest gently waves it's branches.
In the breeze from across the water.
More leaves float landing perfectly against the membrane.
Lying as if to sleep after their life on the tree.
A ripple churns up from the depths.

The subtle boil on the surface, something moves from underneath.
A squirrel observes the disturbance from an overhanging branch.
Inside the grand pool of silent, still, thick living water.
The breeze dies down and everything is statue.
The autumn humms and smells the motionless land.
In weeks to come the trees will be bare.
Their skin now exposed to the oncoming cold.