Autumn Poetry

[jon_chaisson]

Five o'clock, the sun hasn't quite set yet,
But the day isn't as bright as it once was at this time.
The preseason football game is on the television,
The cool breeze off the mouth of the bay sneaking through
The sliding glass doors in the living room,
And the weekend streets are quiet again.

Signs of autumn are starting to show themselves,
Moods of autumn are making their way into my consciousness.
Trees are no longer in bloom, streetside flowers are withering.
The leashed dog no longer boundless in joy and excitement,
His senses intent on preparing for the coming of winter.
Reckless youths shuffling, frustrated and weighed down by book bags,
Grumble about their new teachers and new cliques.

Telltale signs of the impending holiday season are starting to show,
The slightest hint of Halloween candy and decoration
Suggest the coming of dark nights and evening celebrations.
Reds and oranges and yellows of the famed New England foliage
Become ubiquitous in their plasticized, rubberized knockoffs.

The only everlasting green is that of the football field,
Surrounded by excited crowds dressed in their team spirit,
Watching the numbered men beat each other senseless.
It's all in good fun, and it lifts up the spirits of all who witness.
We watch and we take hold of everything that represents life,
Hoping it will keep us warm for the months to come.


x-posted at my Dreamwidth blog