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.
Tag Archives: season change
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.
