Dancers at Rest

     Though it is usually my favorite season, I am starting to see autumn as the opposing team trying to run out the clock on the good weather we need to complete our home siding and painting project. I had also begun to believe I was no longer capable of writing poetry, but today I wrote this . . . I did not specify good poetry.

 

Dancers at Rest 

 

Almost as if they're taking turns,

the leaves blush red as autumn burns

its annual invitation on

the rings within the tree. 

 

Not all at once, but branch by branch,

their costumes change before the dance.

The leaves like lilting music sway

till, one by one, they're swept away.

 

I'm glad they have this final time

to dress their finest, soar sublime, 

uplifted by the cool, fall winds,

then float to earth to join their friends.

 

Through spring and summer we have made

a leafy refuge of their shade.

And I, with many seasons blessed, 

can understand their need for rest. 

 

9/18/26