October Hush

Naga Utu form for Writer's Cramp, striving not to write a cliche autumn poem.

Kilts of confetti
swish shimmering in brisk winds:
rust-golden gingers
baked by day, chilled under moon;
leaves take liberties
twirling, turning in glory,
bright as ripe pumpkins
against slate-blue sundown skies.
Beside the autumn,
death whispers her lullaby,
breathing frosted words
over burgundy and pear…
silencing all into sleep.