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Autumn - Constanza

Autumn – Constanza The season that I like the most; who cares for callow, shallow youth? The young know nothing, that’s the truth. With swallows, on their trip engrossed, I, too, feel atavistic yearning to celebrate the season’s turning. And chestnuts in the fire, to roast, with rosy apples, ripened sloe, give off a fragrance old folks know. That August sun, so swift to boast, is not so mighty any more; a wimper which was once a roar. A feeble and decrepit ghost, an oak leaf, shrivelled in my hand, reminds me that I’m not so grand. The season that I like the most; with swallows, on their trip engrossed, and chestnuts in the fire, to roast: that August sun, so swift to boast, a feeble and decrepit ghost.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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Date: 10/22/2022 5:55:00 AM
"I, too, feel atavistic yearning to celebrate the season’s turning" - Poetic involvement. Beautiful. Congratulations!
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Michael Coy
Date: 10/22/2022 11:33:00 AM
I love your comment. Thank you very much!
Date: 10/21/2022 1:35:00 PM
Thank you, Michael…..for taking part in this tribute to Connie with your fine Autumn Constanza. The most touching lines for me were, “an oak leaf, shrivelled in my hand, reminds me that I’m not so grand. I know Connie would have loved them too. Blessings, SuZ
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Michael Coy
Date: 10/22/2022 11:35:00 AM
Suzanne, you always make comments which are both shrewd and generous, and I am very grateful to you.