October 16.20: Coping

When all is done

and all is said,

none can imagine

such a red

as autumn conjures

from summer’s green

in abracadabra

of a Merlin unseen.

 

 

More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg

and to Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indianapolis, IN.

September 26.20: Coping

In bright foreshadow

does autumn sun

frost the amethyst;

then does the butterfly know

to kiss it goodbye.

 

 

With thanks to photographer Mary Jo Bassett.

August 31.20: Coping

The dark glistens mid-day

and raindrops

the size of watermelons

plop

on the plump of August.

Soon September.

 

 

August 18.20: Coping

The world is a-gurgle,

the pond a-splash,

the flowers a-slurp,

the sky a-flash,

and thus does summer

wash its face,

preparing for autumn’s

russet embrace.

 

 

August 12.20: Coping

Morning came

too quietly,

neither chirp nor trill,

but only cicada’s

serrated drone.

A very timid cricket

tuned his small pipe.

There I stood,

knee-deep in July,

prickly and unsure,

so restless was the quiet.

Now the dark of August nights

and no firefly winks.

The Green Heron blats

like fallow French horn

once or twice a day,

and maple leaves,

scorched,

bleed at their edges.

Do I imagine

the urgency?

Time is out of sorts,

as am I.

 

 

Disconnections: November 24.18

 

The curtain falls

change ever trustable

autumn bows out

in finale combustible.

 

Connections: February 28.18

Oh, bored snow shovel

warm and dry

delight to

winter-weary eye!

Stalwart thee

in catastrophe

but preferred by me

in apostrophe.

 

Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections