A Constant Celebration

Stop-gapped between the torrid
and the frigid, a subtle awareness
celebrates pied colors.

In the early darkening
there’s a new found love of candlelight
as if we were the inventors of fire.

Some sense of hanging on
declares the frost bit rose
most beautiful of all.

Sun worshipers in August,
we wear our new fall sweaters
with devotion.

Sometimes we take
without giving; sometimes
we give without taking,

Gratitude is ongoing,
every sunrise we celebrate
Thanksgiving.

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Turnip Greens

sown in summer, fall is their spring
the kiss of frost has sweetened them

too mature they toughen
turn bitter

but it takes some aging
to build character

embellish just a little
but keep it simple

a touch of buttering
a little seasoning

don’t overwhelm them
learn to love the tang

take them or leave them
but don’t try to change them.

 

 

this moment

window open
to better see the stars

the breeze, November fresh
sweeps in, a shiver

half delight, half the waning season
the curtains sway, content

as if even lace knows
each moment can be spent

once
in a lifetime

Denying Entropy

True perspective must be learned
while standing on the edge
looking down, a mighty fall,

or looking up
with  feet firmly on the ground,
eyes on the sky.

It is a choice,
the dark abyss or heaven.
It has a lot to do with direction

and sometimes reinvention.
Breathe in, fill your lungs with wind,
your heart with sun

and keep moving.
Build a strong foundation
but keep in mind

there will be surprises.

Autumn’s Eastern Shore

A sepia daguerreotype;
the flat fields, the stubble left over
from October’s second cutting,
the shocks of corn
like rows of teepees ,

Some see a morning monotone
but my eye
sees a thousand shades and hues,
a palette unmatched
by any mortal hand,

O beautiful bronze of autumn
when you are gone
the year is all but done.
In spring
the clover will bloom again,

The crocus and the daffodil
will decorate new green
but my soul still finds its solace
on the Eastern Shore
in autumn.