Window

Blue sky reflected

In warbled window glass;

Leaves begin to turn 

Brown and orange

Against the old stone wall

Cold and bright day.

Sky Splashes

Fall flowers brighten the roadside

Like pieces of the summer's sky, 

Fallen in splashes dotted with sunshine.

Encouraging us to face winter with joy;

Proving that the common is beautiful

That beauty is all around us.

Thanks

When the flowers of summer

Have gone, 
Along the roadside I find 
Pyracantha
Reaching their red-berried branches

To a deep blue sky

In gratitude for the cool

Cool days of autumn

Eucharistos -- thanksgiving.

Grass

In the fall, the grass is white with fluff

Little "parachutey" stuff;

And blowing in the wind, each blade a wand,

A waving flag, like nature's hand 

Bids summer gone.

Open Rose

Red fades to pink,

To purple,

To wine,

Like a summer sunset 

Changes and is gone.

Petals softer than satin

More fragile than the skin

Of Grandmother's hands.

Open wide to the world,

Free and generous,

To give its last essence, 

Its last golden beauty to 

My day. 

Tea Time

Pretty china tea pot

Come on down from your shelf!

I'll fill you up with tea, hot,

For my friend and myself.

Pretty little tea pot

You hold just enough for two

To drink a cup of tea, a spot,

While we chat as true friends do.

Lobelia

Clip the last summer blossoms.

Take down the blue

Glass hummingbird feeders.

Tonight a cold front,

Maybe a freeze.

Rain is falling,

Wind blowing,

Winter hovers near;

Tries to frighten me, but

Each season has its own beauty

I love them all.

Come on!

Problem

Sorry, friends and neighbors

My lawn will not be nice

The leaves will not be harvested

Oh no!

My rake is twinned with glory vines

Beside the garden fence

I cannot, won't, be moving it 

At all!

It might rob those vines of a place to grow

Deprive them of support,

And I could never do that to them

No, no!

Pecan Pie

Grandma made pies like this, 

Topped with fresh pecans.

Her crust floated and made 

A layer of 

Sticky,

Yummy,

Gooey,

Sweet

Custard between 

Buttery flaky layers.

Enough to make you shout 

Hallelujah! 

Colors

Green, the stem and leaves,

Orange, red, purple, and white, 

Yellow mellow, and yellow bright.

Colors of fall, glorious sight!

What if drained of all colors,

Nature happened in gray

Flowers bloomed and blossomed like clay.

Brown, black, or rust ruled the day?

What if trees turned plain old brown;
Would our hearts rise up in glee?
If pumpkins were never orange, would we
So love the autumn that we now see?

Well-Preserved

Mama taught me canning skills 

When I was just a child

We picked our fruit, gathered

From garden, orchard or woodland wild.

Peaches, pears, and apricots, 

Grapes, sweet corn and beans,

We washed the jars and filled them;

The canner chugged and puffed out steam.

Now I am getting older fast;

I hope that like jelly and jam I'll be

Well-preserved, and keeping strong

Till the Good Lord comes after me.

Pear Harvest

The old red Ford truck waits;

We fill our buckets and tubs with

Hard yellow Kieffer pears
From a spreading gnarled tree,

Planted years ago by some homesteader.

We owe him or her

Who dug the hole

Spread the sapling's roots 

In the waiting soil, 

Who watered,

Who pruned so we could harvest

Sweet fruit.

Wool

Sheep grazing sedately in a grassy pasture

Show no signs of distress

At having been robbed of their wool.

Their missing fleeces dyed and dried

Wait for buyers in the fading sunlight

Along a cozy shelf near a window.

Do they peep out and dream,

Or sleeplessly count their sheep?

Pumpkins

Autumn sunshine lights 

Pumpkins waiting in wobbly rows 

To be chosen by eager children 

For Jack-o-lantern carving, 

For ghostly October nights.

Parents wait for pumpkin pies, 

And sweet nut-filled breads 

For times with family and friends

Around Thanksgiving dinner tables.

Harvest

In the warm sunshine,

Wheat lies in bundles waiting

To be ridded of its straw,

Cleaned of its chaff, ground into flour,

Kneaded  into loaves of crusty bread

To eat with hot soup

On a cold winter's night. 

October Day

                                                                           

Ho, a chilly day!

Fall at her best

Summer’s been squeezed

Through a cider press.

On with your sweater

Come on—Let’s run

Till we’re finally warmed

By the autumn sun!

We’ll climb the pear tree

Gather them in

Baskets and buckets,

Boxes and bin.

Gather those pumpkins.

Carve us a “Jack”.

Cut golden sunflowers

Hang ‘em on the rack.

There’s soup for supper

With fresh hot bread.

Watch the orange moon rise

Then scurry off to bed.

Blooming

Little girl, you're blooming

Your eyes are shining bright.

Your mother surely wonders

When she tucks you in at night,

At your beauty, how it strengthens,

How it changes day by day;

Like a flower buds and blossoms

In a most miraculous way!

S

Allergy Time!

Flowers for Mama

Who can resist?

I picked them myself

With a twist of my wrist.

Sweet yellow flowers

A vase I will need

For out in the pasture

I found this Sneeze-weed!

October Roses

October roses bloom against the white

Wall of the house

Where the afternoon sun lingers

Where the brightness is reflected

Even on chilly mornings

Buds stir and open

Cold rain drips from the leaves

Till frost browns the pink edges

Till a night's wind strews the fragile petals

After they have had their autumn day.

Little Pioneer Girl

Nothing is more pleasing in a child's small hand,
More precious than a treasure from a foreign land.,
Than an oval chicken's egg found in the waving grass.

White as snow, as fragile and as smooth as glass.

Stirring

Toiling away at your work, 
Little sweet girl

Stirring and beating up something 
To eat girl.

Measure the flour, the sugar, the meal,

Add eggs, beat in butter and milk, 
Stir until

Your arms are weary, 
your muscles are tired,

The batter so smooth makes flapjacks inspired

To serve to your guests, your family, 
And friends.

And brings out those smiles with 
the pleasure it sends.

Evening Glory

As the evening's softy falling

Pale green white blooms

Begins to unfurl

Waiting for darkness 

To open, to unleash

A musky scent that moths come to 

Moths that flutter in the shadows

Hiding from moonlight

Come to taste the blossom's nectar 

Like syrupy languid music

Heard in the midnight. 

Daisy Fleabane

Wildflowers in the pasture

Wave their bright faces 

In the waning summer sun

Bud, bloom, stretch, fade, fall,

So fleeting, so full of life

Then gone

Their days few

 Swiftly counted

Soon past, like ours.

Prairie

as summer ends -

cows graze across pasture lands -

ranch lands, prairie lands

ornamented with sunflowers, sneeze weed, 

and goldenrod,

home to swooping meadowlarks and red-tailed hawks,

and punctuated 
with 
soli-
tary 
trees.

Mums

Chrysanthemums are blooming

In every size and shade

Sturdy and bright,

Catching the light 

Of autumn's sun.

Asian Lily

Like one of Seraphine's visions,

Fantastical stems sprout spear-like leaves,

Like bendable sword blades.

Pale yellow buds burst awake

In sunshine and blood colors

A spray of fireworks 

Springing from their centers

In wild disarray.

It may be that a flower cannot be fantasized  

That could outdo God's creative genius.

Crape Mrytle

Pink pompoms in the fall parade

Summer's late sweetness

Autumn wind and rain tip-taps

Your branches against my window.

When I look out next morning,

You are still smiling.

Alpaca Do

I have my hair done 

At the nicest salons

My nails at a French beautique.

My lashes are my 

Signature. They flutter

When I speak.

Envy me my fine coiffure

My locks so stylish,

So silky and sleek!

My brows, a fashion statement,

They say, "Like Wow!

Like totally unique!"

Banana Butterfly

Dainty diner,

Feasting on a speckled banana 

Was it spots like your own,

The lovely yellow color,

The scent of syrupy sweetness,

Or the soft cushion for a landing 

That drew you to this perch?

Or did you only want your 

Photo taken?

Bougainvillea

Bougainvillea

Your name intrigues as much as your

Bracts of purple 

Bougainvillea

Bouquet from a country estate?

A Villa?

Norwegians call you "trillingblomst."

Can it mean "thrilling bloom?"

Africans call you "Papierblom"

Blooms of paper?

Bougainvillea

Your flowers are tiny bottles 

With white fluted edges.

Your stems stiff

Your leaves a lively green

On vines that run and climb 

Like busy children.

Bougainvillea