October 11, 2009 : Seasonal Poetry

Early morning hours found

Jack Frost with heavy stroke.

Leaves the color of Goldfinch

In the crux of Summer

Curl inward

Looking for warmth within themselves

‘Till the sun rises

To unthaw the ice and find the trees

Reaching toward the skies

In final attempt

To rescue its drape before departure finds

The branches naked

To snow and wind.

And my wildflowers

Yet violet and white

Have eased to the ground

Where they lay their heads

Pillowed among the bed to fall asleep

And abandon themselves

To a blanket of snow.

As I draw in the flavor of Autumn

She is slightly sharp on my tongue

Her breath mingles

The tang of decay

With the sweetness of labors harvest.

Now daylight falls

And my house groans

To broaden itself and warm its belly

Against the shadowy hours of night

And tomorrow awakens

To stretch herself in a yawn

And find Autumn one day gone.