I like to wear Christmas sweaters in June
To show that it can be done
To see who will try and fix me or correct me
It brings the bosses out of the woodwork.
Also because I probably did not find them until this week
The old sweaters
that I wear
on cold summer evenings
once belonged
to someone
who left long ago
because those
long light-filled nights
were filled with both
sad and happy reflections
that no sweater could
comfort them from.
In Europe, they call it Autumn
In America, they call it Fall
I’m looking for it, “Hum” …
But it’s not here at all!
The leaves are hanging on
And plenty are still green
Feels like Summer is not gone
Like nothing I’ve ever seen!
Yesterday was eighty-six
Today will be eighty-two
The climate’s playing tricks
And I don’t know what to do!
My sweaters hang and wait
While short sleeve tops abound
My clothes know not their fate
When no balance can be found!
What have we done my friend
Is this our planets way
Will pollution ever end?
Or is it here to stay!
Whether you call it Autumn
Or maybe you call it Fall
We pray cool air will come
With our luck, twill be snowfall!
Dedicated to my Moma
Mom’s loving hands knitted me Barbie’ clothes,
my son’s small sweater I display in pose,
and our blanket of unique square patterns.
Our cute child animal mittens were cool.
Wool surrounds me, comforts me, love is wool.