Autumn 2009

Autumn comes and goes and with each passing year
I learn to value life a little deeper, another chapter farther
I can’t reclaim the summer past the onions or tomatoes
But autumn is the harvest time
They are in shiny pretty jars kept safely in the cupboard now.
Autumn cannot be kept nearly so safely.
Soon it will be turning. Tyrant winds and crystal snows arriving soon.
I can’t relive the sweet summer days with laughing children running
Green green grass for soccer, bugs to catch and bother.
But now the grass is brown and great for football, say my children.
Put and extra layer on, the wind is picking up! Go out to play ball little ones.
Your mother wants to sit in the window awhile with a cup of hot tea.
Autumn is so melancoly. Each autumn I am a little older.
Sit and hear the whirr of the corn harvest all around you.
Look and see the spring’s little calves, wooly and strong by now.
All is going on, moving forward, time is not still
And yet I am still; I am sitting still watching time moving on.
Autumn, the narrow, short corner, little rest stop in the path of time.