Autumn comes in with blustery breath,
Huffing and puffing and making the trees talk,
Saying rude things and uttering regretful gasps,
As their leaves are plucked
One by one and by the dozen,
As the fruit of a summer’s labor is
Whisked away and shaken from their grasp.
So, be fussed and bedazzled
By Northern air and blue sky
And the colorful tatters of summer’s lace,
We work to gather the fallen fruit for winter’s living.
We stack the leaves in gathered piles to create spring’s promise
In their death and decay,
Before the next gust calls them to play in the wind
One last time before slumbering in Demeter’s embrace
But,
When winter at last comes to stay,
Sere and dry
Or wet and dank
Or frozen and still
We miss summer’s heat and rampant growth.
The breathy wonder of season’s change
Can make us sing and sigh.
