Autumn chill
seeps from this
damp morning.
Goldenrod,
Bull Thistle,
Calico Aster,
Bellflower:
the weeds
whisper
the year
is turning.
I hear them
and heed them,
build a small fire,
put on an old
flannel shirt,
sip hot coffee
and consider
that I
am turning
as well.
Along the way,
seeps from this
damp morning.
Goldenrod,
Bull Thistle,
Calico Aster,
Bellflower:
the weeds
whisper
the year
is turning.
I hear them
and heed them,
build a small fire,
put on an old
flannel shirt,
sip hot coffee
and consider
that I
am turning
as well.
Along the way,
the journey
has become
the destination.
has become
the destination.
Nothing
to fear.
ALLEGORY
ReplyDeleteGoldenrod shines bright
among the rusted grasses
of summer’s passing
while the trees
offer the mellow colors of fall
on tarnished leaves.
The wings of migration
seek the southern winds
of tradition.
And stored harvests
reaped plentiful,
mark the season’s end.
Readying
for the cold nights
of longer shadows.
~Asphodel