Upon the James in Autumn's Golden Hour

Fair waters wind through hills of russet brown, Autumnal leaves descend like burning brands, Leaves drift upon the current, soft and down, Light slants through branches, gilding ancient lands. In Richmond's heart, the river bends and turns, Now gold and amber paint the western sky, Rich colors blaze where daylight slowly burns, I watch the herons lift and wheel and fly. Chill air arrives with evening's early call, Hills stand in purple shadow, row on row, My boat drifts slow, the current takes it all, October claims the land with mist and glow. Night falls upon the water, dark and deep, Dusk settles soft where James and sky shall sleep.