Autumn

It isn't officially autumn for a couple days, but it feels and looks and smells like fall in Wisconsin today. This is a poem I wrote awhile ago that I still like. I think it describes September in Wisconsin pretty well.

September

September is the turning time.
As Monarchs move to warmer lands
They foreshadow
Flashing, falling leaves
Of Autumn’s cloak.

She empties her cupboards
Feeding us left-over summer,
Grown limp and wilted
Towards the end,
Making room for fresh fall days
And mellow nights.

She is generous with her garden.
Treasure lies buried in potato hills,
Round, red raspberries bejewel bushes,
And golden mums heap
Beyond the wildest dreams of Midas.

September gives us faith.
There is enough;
We can move past the point
Where light and shadow
Balance on the fulcrum
Of autumnal equinox.

Then scarlet Sumacs
Wave good bye to Summer
And beckon Autumn, “Come.”