Autumn Begins
Autumn Begins
I stand on my porch
eyes raised into a pallid sky
like Greer Garson on the Cliffs of Dover
watching her lover's Spitfire cross the channel.
Geese gather in the bay.
Daily practice formations vee over
my cottage which is even now
hunkering down into the forest.
It pulls in its garden skirts in one last show
of bravado with golden asters and tattered
baby's breath lace kicking high. Wood is piled
on the porch to feed my parlor stove when
white is the colourless of the day. My geese
bugle and triumph in a crackle of song, " come with us,
come with us woman of the north, Join our soaring
into the warmth of another land."
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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