Category: Autumn 2024

Don’t let these warm days fool you.
Do you not see that the sycamores
have given their all? That the gold
of the maples has fallen? In the woods
the squirrels are busily burying nuts
and growing thick fur. Treat this
spell of comfort as a grace, given
you to gather memories of color
and mild air, of flowing waters
where leaves float like boats
and ducks paddle freely
through a still-liquid world.
Take it as a kindness, given
by the Yes, as a treasure for you
to hold in your heart for warmth
when the winds blow cold.

October, having hid a few
of her favorite costumes
in the hollow’s woods,
brought them out
as her final treat, a gift
for all who happened
down a certain country road.
Then, laughing in pleasure
at their delight, she slid into
the shadows of the surrounding
hills, and disappeared.

Now is the time, oh little ones,
to wrap your summer in dreams,
to take your billowing days
and starlit nights, the play
of swallowtails and damselflies,
the woodlands’ whispering songs,
and fold them in your feathers
as your spirits fly away
to the land where memories
are spun into songs that sing
the Yes ‘til spring’s morning.

Come walk this autumn path with me.
Come gather its color and breathe its perfume
before it fades away. Such magic is rare;
it cannot hold. It lasts for only one day
and then it’s gone. Come, walk with me.
Come watch the last golden leaf-coins fall
across our path. Tuck the smooth, red leather
of the oak into your pocket to spend
on dreams. Listen to the secrets
whispered on the wind as it carries
these bright bits of the season away.
Come walk with me and gather this treasure
for keeping in memory’s store.

Just in time for Halloween
pumpkin-orange tulips popped up
on the shelves of my grocer’s store.
They seemed rather spooky to me,
I admit, quite out of place and time.
A trick of commerce, I scoffed.
But then their beauty won me,
coaxing me to change my view.
It’s not a trick, but a treat, I decided.
Tulips should get to play, too.

A few days back, fewer than I can count
on my fingers, some of the maples
still wore their circus colors, other trees
still held their green. “Trick or treat”
is the call of the season. Now the boughs
are all but bare and the wind howls, ghostlike,
hurling what’s left to the ground.
That’s quite a trick. But be patient.
The treat still lies ahead.

Patiently they wait, holding their green
while the beeches and sassafras
open the show. They watch
the maples and their neighbors
paint the hills with their yellows,
their burgundies, golds, and crimsons.
Then the rain comes, washing
all but shreds of color to the ground.
And just when you think
that autumn has spent her glory,
you wake to find that the oaks
have stepped onto the stage
to dance the grand finale
of autumn’s wondrous show.

Suddenly a high wind blew in from the west
and I stood there, dizzy with delight,
as the trees sent bushels of leaves
tumbling on the rushing air and twirling
all around me.
It was grand.
And the trees and I laughed.

Before the colors are swallowed up
by winter’s quiet dreams, let us
give you one more sweep of hues
to carry you through the colorless cold.
Tuck these bold flags into the corners
of your mind. Wave them on nights
when the wind howls, when snow
pulls its white blankets over your fields.
Let them warm you with their bright songs
and encourage you when the days
seem bleak and endless. Let them whisper
to you that winter is but a pulling back
of the Archer’s bow so that, come spring,
new songs may rise, and joy, renewed,
may fill your soul.

“Yes,” I said, as I came upon them,
their arms stretched toward the light
as if in joyful praise,
“That’s how I feel, too.”