And Life goes On

Autumn did not saunter in

with her coat of many colors.

She did not dip her toe in

to test the temperature.

She stole a cloak from Winter

and jumped in with both bony feet,

settling greyness on top of the trees

and the grass

and the still vibrant bursts of zinnia.



Last night she tinged green tips with yellow

and yesterday, I saw the one tree

she is using to select this season’s shade of red.



Still the sunflower and cosmos tower

against the grey

as brilliant beacons

to call Indian Summer home.

Defiant colors

broadcast their protest to the dull sky

in green, red, orange, and purple.

Windows turn their light toward the garden

instead of warming the floor.



Autumn is making herself at home,

reluctantly invited

even into the kitchen,

she is stocking the pantry with the flavors of fall

and the stove with pots of warmth and comfort.

When Autumn touches the skin,

she is at once damp cold and fleecy warmth.

She inspires sleep and hunger and deep breaths

and lulls you into accepting her.



She plans to stay

until Winter discovers her closet is empty

and comes in a flurry

to find her cloak.

Then Autumn will gather up the last of Summer’s color

and run away as quickly as she came

chasing his heat to the south.



LB 9/11/08