a spring poem in autumn


September owns ripe fruit urgency & color
but today I scent spring
in falling leaves, in spite of
the apples & concord grapes
on my table instead of strawberries

today something inside stretches & blooms
in response to sun, rebellious
& adamantly out of season

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21 thoughts on “a spring poem in autumn

  1. I appreciate how a sudden burst of warmth after a bout of cold, or certain scents and tastes can do this to you. I like the image of the fruit on your table as you write, as though it is passing on to you its memory and what first gave it life as it prepares to pass into you bodily too.

    • Thanks, Celestine. I do so love 3 of the 4 seasons we get–they can keep the snow, IMHO ;)

      However, if I get to walk through falling leaves, I guess snow is a fairly decent tradeoff for the privilege.

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