Sensing autumn in the air
the sap wonders whether it’s time to pull back.
It hesitates, leaving some leaves green and others brown.
A striped hawk comes looking for an errant mouse,
an inattentive lizard.
Each season was once anticipatory
spring the prelude to glorious summer
winter holding out with chill
for far too long, every time.
Fall was once a painful season
fateful birthdays, students pressured, a tumor removed
having overgrown in the enthusiasm of summer.
Now it is a promise.
Rest, a moving inward, a calm
pulling growth down into a bowl.
Autumn in its dryness
wants moisture and desiccated bird seed.
The fledglings gone, the herbs paused
the sunlight coming sideways
as if trying to peek in one last time as the door closes.
Sweaters in the dryer emerging free of dust
blankets fluffed, ready to serve
electric heaters taken apart screw by screw
to clean them out.