Work Autumn Poems

Autumn has arrived.

The sycamore are starting to loose leaves, and the corn fields
almost ready to be picked, indications of its arrival.
Though the temperature, especially in...

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I was a productive, proficient painter, long captivated by the manifold colors,
An infinite parade of hues and intensities, like tales of a thousand summers.

I worked...

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Grab up some pine I cut up last weekend,
back creaks as I put it up on the block,
splitting maul flashes, in an arc descends,
sinks deep...

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Am I really the only one thinking outside the box,
When it comes to pension costs,
Regardless of whether people are able to work or not,
With some...

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lean fields topped up shedding trees in fullness~~glean pluck play togetherness...

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bare autumn trees frowned - all their colorful leaves lay on the ground

autumn holds them at bay – cold winter winds want to come out...

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The deck was strewn with fallen leaves;
I swept them all away
And cleared the gutters with my broom.
The house looks fine today.

I bought two mini-pumpkin gourds,
As...

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Immune to October extremes
Autumn fuels fantasy dreams.
Setting the poet in me free,
Autumn feels surreal to me.

I see the hand of God at work
validating Nature's artwork.
And...

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A game piling the Autumn leaves made me smile. 
Challenging the Grandkids to make the biggest pile.
A huge stack of red and gold each one...

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A meadow for Autumn

Forest, I lay me down to rest
upon bed of moss.
 
Eternal sleep immediately overtakes me 
lichen kenning myself 
as Rip Van Winkle...

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Night came harvesting our sights
into his basket of darkness
at the same time, the once drizzles on our roof
had turned into a rainstorm
putting a period to...

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Up the wooden hill
where the fir tree spills
rustic autumn and soil,
cries of "The pale one".
All in arms,
pitchforks at the ready.
"Burn the witch! Be gone!"

An equivocal...

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it’s raining leaves - hs

some call it the fall
keats wrote of it as autumn
but he was english
maybe english trees
keep their leaves throughout the year
saving lots...

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The autumn of our years, our moment in the sun. Still vibrant with the colors of a life fully lived. Retired from our labors. ...

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The season turned yellow
in ground of the autumn park
God's work or Van Gogh's......

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