Five "Autumn Thoughts"
by Joan Adams Burchell
(all copyright)
Two Beautiful Photos by Michael (see the other one below)
Autumn
When gems of summer look tired and sad, we clean up reluctantly;
When autumn colours replace summer's
jewels, it happens gradually.
By the time summer's packed and
put away, warm russetts and reds catch our eye;
Crimson and gold step softly in
and we haven't had time to spy.
When we watch flocks of geese flying
south, suddenly all is clear;
The seasons have changed in the
blink of an eye - the fall of the year is here.
When we take a deep breath of crisp
autumn air, it's a tonic and a relief,
And we know we have secretly waited
for this - the season that's hallowed, but brief.
Stately spruce, green balsam and
pine accentuate amber and cream;
And when coloured leaves float
silently down they're a blanket on which we can dream
Of pumpkin and spice, and family,
gathered around the fire,
Mesmerized by autumn's treasures
- all that a heart could desire.
***
Sentiment
There's something about the last
cut of summer - whether it's early or late;
Summer has faded and colours of autumn have raced in at a breathtaking
gait.
Call me nostalgic or maybe a fool as I push the mower slowly and
sure;
The rows, neat and even and ever-so green - cutting grass, to
me, is a cure.
The mower all cleaned out and put safely away - where did the
summer months go?
I'll miss the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass; there isn't a smell
to snow.
Snow! Oh no! Can I do it this year? It's harder to shovel than
mow.
But when the time comes and I'm knee-deep in white I'll try shovelling
row upon row.
Jack Frost will be nipping at fingers and toes and I'll end up
all icy and wet,
But with each row I shovel I'll think of the green and vow summer
I'll never forget.
***
Seasons Flying
It seems like only yesterday the
Canada geese flew north;
Today, they're headed south again - so quickly back and forth.
Spring and summer have faded away and autumn now is here;
Then comes winter's icy blast and mountains of snow appear.
Time travels on, so never fear - spring will be reborn,
And once again we'll watch the geese and hear each honking horn.
***
Little Things
A multi-coloured tapestry lay upon
the ground;
My feet skipped over brown pinecones
and red maple-leaves spread 'round.
My nose was tickled with allergen
wood smoke hanging, still, in the air;
I pictured a cozy family scene
and tho' I sneezed, didn't care.
Aroma escaped from an open window
- mouth-watering apple pie,
And I could taste the apples and
spice and heard myself give a sigh.
The crisp air was biting on my
cheeks and my pockets sheltered my hands;
Birds were rendering their late-day
song here and across these lands.
Children, together, were coming
from school, chatting all the way;
My dog welcomed me as I opened
my door; little things made a good day.
***
Shapes
Clam-shaped clouds against the blue, as white as white can be,
Arranged in a soft and quilt-like pattern, inviting us to see.
I often watch, throughout the day, the quick-change artist flee
From sand, hills, and tiny lakes, so angel doves I see.
One day I felt I could climb upon a horse, fast-footed and white;
Today, I'd like to snuggle beneath that quilt of blue and white.
"Last Colours"
by Michael
