A note from a wasp:

It's winter and I will die

The queen has the eggs

Stingy Jack the knave

Enjoined from heaven and hell

Roams with a lantern

A skrik in the night

Is it a ghost or goblin?

Horripilation!

almost futilely

waves throw themselves on the shore

unrelentingly

 Atop the back wall

Like faithful to a service

Quail in procession

 Unembarrassed cat

Indifferent to my gaze

Spreads out on his back

 She hangs by a string

On the verge of touching him

Does she dare let go? 

 

An old length of twine

(that once fastened a package)

Now in a lark's nest

Lashed by autumn gales

The pines discharge dry needles

Undressed but dauntless

  The leaves once brittle

Now moldered beneath the snow

Will nourish in spring

 Heed the tempest sky

That quakes the trees to their roots

First hint of winter

 Machines work for us

Until they are too useful

Then we work for them

 The antagonists

One launches his best fast ball

His foe coils to swing

Afar in the green

Where the lark first learned to sing

Songs not wrought for us

 The smallest are most

A note - a smile - a kind thought

A dog at your side

 He gave her his word

It has been so long ago

She cannot find it

 The books  are patient

Waiting cover to cover

In the library

 My father's broad smile

Belied the weight in his chest

As he lit one more

Where is more pleasure?

Delectable tomatoes

Are gladness enough

 There's not enough sun

To warm the blood of the trees

They must stay for spring

Do the trees lament?

That shed dry tears of scarlet

Do they dread winter?

In the bracing breeze 

Geese declare in formation

Sapless leaves concede

 October's vigor

Bull elk sound hungry trumpets

Trees ablaze with rust

 

 Savor this season

Apples, squash and wild berries

Cornucopia!

The spruce in Autumn

Coronated with fresh cones

Oozing with resin

 There's reward in age

After all the suns and moons

I become younger

Where this road may end

Matters hardly anymore

The passage fulfills