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September 2022: Summer's End

9/22/2022

1 Comment

 
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                                                         Summer’s End 
 
 
                                  The summer ended in  September blaze.   
                                  The leaves changed color under hot sun’s rays
                                 The Autumn wind blew them to the parched ground                                 
                                 Then swirled them up again, up and around.                                                            
            
                                 A blinding  sun burned in cerulean sky. 
                                 An east  wind swept in fiercely, hot and dry,
                                 As the last apple dropped down off its tree,  
                                 I saw pears ready to pick above me                                         
 
                                 The acorns brought the squirrels, the  jay, the crow
                                 The doe with speckled fawns who browsed  below.
                                 They all came to partake, calmly in peace,
                                 And giving their thanks to the oak, to feast.  
                                                                                                 
                                 Then just in time there came the winter rain,
                                 And parched brown earth soon  sprang to life again. 

​                                                                                                                -MW 

​Nest on gray asphalt
Sits empty, silent, alone.
No longer needed.
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​Red, yellow, green fruits ,
Juicy, sweet-tart, refreshing.
Late summer harvest.
Empty osprey nest,
Crows, gulls, raccoon come to glean
Until Spring returns.
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Wind sighs, leaves rustle,
Dry leaves crunch under our feet.
Can you hear Autumn?
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photo from Flkr via Weebly may not be copied or altered.
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Cool evening air, wind
Blows across my sunburned arm.
​I feel Autumn come. 



Sharp pine, musty oak
Acrid smell of burning grass.
Sniff Fall in the air. 






​
Apples have been picked
Peeled, sliced, spiced, made into pies
​With warm spicy smells.
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photo from Flkr via Weebly, cannot be copied or altered.
       Summer’s End
 
            They stored the lawn chairs, kiddie pool and barbecue.
            Then ate a last burger on the patio.
            While the children, popsicles dripping down chins,
            Chased fireflies on the lawn damp with evening  dew,
            The elders sat on the screened porch, rocking, talking, then telling stories
            When the children, tired, came to laps to rest.
 
            They went inside to bed, the windows open wide, for the heat lingered,
            But they slept long, as the sun was late to rise.
            And when they finally awakened, they felt a new coolness in the air,
            Smelled chimney smoke, heard migrating geese calling,
            Saw white frost dampening the fallen Autumn leaves, scarecrows on porches,         
            And they knew Autumn had arrived

-MW
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In Autumn I think
Of my mother:
Born in September,
Lived in New Hampshire,
Land of red and yellow maple leaves,
Of maple syrup, you gathered
Blueberries in the woods.
As mother, you baked cookies
To put in our  back to school  lunch bag,
Sewed Halloween costumes for whatever
Crazy ideas your kids had: witch, Statue of Liberty,
 panther, tooth, Pied Piper,
(but Dad took us out to trick or treat)
Taught me how to wax leaves
To preserve them for Thanksgiving.
Gave me an empty oatmeal box
So I could make a turkey then
Write a story about it. 
Cooked a full Thanksgiving dinner
That took three days to prepare:
First pies then rolls, then cranberry sauce,
And stuffing, got up early Thanksgiving morning
To stuff the turkey and put it in the oven
Then all day preparing green beans with almonds,
sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and last, the gravy. 
(I set the table, with cornucopia and waxed leaves as centerpiece.)
And you were not done, for after dinner, the dishes 
Had to be washed. But you did it all willingly, lovingly
For your family. 
And then Fall was over
But Christmas  and Winter
were fast approaching

​MW

Wisdom from a 100 year old:

The old slip into somber silence, as a once familiar world slips rapidly away.

It is only the moment that is of moment, all else is memory and speculation.

A culture in twilight is a game without fixed rules.

​Life is its own purpose.


Píccola says, "Leave me alone. I'm sleeping."
​
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All photos except as noted were taken by MW. Photos,poems and music  are the property of MW. 
1 Comment
Emma Nation
9/22/2022 09:02:28 pm

Great imagery of fall and family, and bringing it all back home. Thanks for the reminders of the beauty all around, and within us.

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