Sweeping the Porch

Autumn comes, layered in dust from summer winds And a a drought parched earth A path leading up to the porch is not as welcoming as it was in May Now overgrown with patches of thirsty devil grass Brown and searching for a drink While weaving it's tendrils between the slate As I sweep the porch, I spy a chipped terra-cotta pot, Still harboring a forlorn geranium, all legs...no blossoms, Forgotten, discarded, and has shriveled away Piled high now, a wheelbarrow, With remnants of summer's bloom, now faded. Sweeping webs of long-legged spiders, Which have encased a glistening tapestry around the pillars Those spindly creatures, swiftly flee my wrath As I fulfill my need to renew, and refreshen Restore an old porch some dignity. The porch swing is swaying after a dusting. A new pillow, and a basket filled with gourds take a slow ride. A grapevine autumn wreath is hung on the front door. I shine a window that faces the mountains And a new pot of bright orange mums Now proudly sits by the door to warm and welcome. While I have erased the traces of a dusty, tattered season... My heart and home are now ready to embrace the rust and gold of autumn's arrival...