Kenneth R. Merrill Poet Quatrain

The Unwitting Days of Autumn

The unwitting days of Autumn,
And the carefree days of Fall—
They bid farewell to Summertime,
And without a care, at all.

And were the Fall to think a thought,
Whatever would it be?
Other than to contemplate 
Which of all the leaves to free.

For She harbors no resentments,
Owing not a single debt—
She travels on a balmy breeze,
Free of worry, or regret.

Autumn has no aspirations,
No account, nor purse to fill—
Autumn gently takes a sable brush
Turning red both wood, and hill.

Still the majesty of Autumn,
Comes again, though never stays—
How I envy Her oblivion,
And Her unpretentious ways.

And though Winter steals her color,
Turning amber fields, to white;
Autumn—if for but awhile—
Turns my worries to delight!

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Gershon Wolf October 23, 2019 at 9:55 PM Just perfectly penned, Kenneth: subject, rhythm and flow, and crowning glory in the last stanza! Such a nice brush-stroke you have! Thoroughly enjoyed this one. Warmest wishes, Gershon Kenneth R. Merrill October 23, 2019 at 11:27 PM Thank you, Gershon! My father painted with a brush; I paint with a pen. If for only this, a lowly frame—were we not artists, just the same?