Poesy and Prose

Fall

Autumn may eat the summer night,

but it's still a season of warmth and light.

Pick and prune the weeds,

keep the wheat and grass seeds.

Clear away the dead, change brings new,

a bud will begin, die, and bloom.

Gloves weighed down by the dirt,

bring them back, tied in your shirt.

Curly leaves, like ribbons on a bow,

wrapped beneath a blanket of snow.

While the frost creeps in, cold and sick,

the leaves will shift, colors all adrift.

Offer a hope, a hand to hold,

in the growing darkness, the chilling cold.

Hard work pays off, relax together,

enjoy indoors, escape the weather.

Lock the harvest in your heart,

save your greenhouse garden sprouts,

keep them in the smallest part.

Think about the future,

family and safe blanket snuggles,

sharing soup and meeting teachers.

Students return to what they know,

learn something forgotten,

pass it on and grow.

Stay inside, bury yourself in layers,

but keep in mind the changing to a witch's prayers.

Glowing pumpkins set to rot beneath the stairs,

a gift of fall, won at the fairs.

Candy and costumes on Hallow's Eve,

a Samhain evening, kids to please.

Paint your cheeks and face to scare, 

turn a house into a lair.

Hang the lights, a festival is near,

celebrate bounty, gratitude, and cheer.

Cook up corn, turkey, and pie,

serve it hot, sliced on rye.

Sacrifice for time to spare,

give back to earth and air.

The snow will fall and cover soon,

zip your jacket, watch the moon.

The crunch of leaves drifts to white,

wait for morning, a crisp and clean fresh snow fight.

Boots grow heavy from the melt,

shake them off, wear down the felt.

Muggy and gray on the roadside,

wipe it free before coming inside.

Glass will fog, can't see past three,

fall will come, but so will spring.