Rest: a poem

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.