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Gray Autumn Mornings
by
Maureen Hand


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On gray autumn mornings,
one sees the lilac tree
wrinkled and spent
from weight of many seasons.
May’s purple brilliance
replaced with fall’s faded hue.
 
On gray autumn mornings,
one readies for winter’s shroud.
Pull up impatiens, prune roses,
pluck last of tomatoes,
plant new tulips.
Put everything in order.
 
On gray autumn mornings,
one fears December’s frost.
Will it be harsh?
Will it linger?
Will it burden plants?
 
On gray autumn mornings,
one’s mind flits
from thought to thought
like that bumble bee
hunting for nectar
on the lilac tree’s
knotted branches.
 
  

This poem first appeaed in A River Reporter’s Literary Gazette (2008).
Used here with the author’s permission.

 

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Maureen Hand began writing poetry when she retired from teaching high school English and writing ten years ago.  She agrees with W. H. Auden that poems are just stories with the boring parts left out. Maueen lives in Amsterdam, NY.
 

New comments are closed for now.
dotief@comcast.net:
Very nice!
Posted 11/03/2013 02:10 PM
TheSilverOne:
Lovely poem, Maureen!
Posted 11/03/2013 01:45 PM
fer:
I panicked -- no daily poem in my inbox this morning.... And then it came at 11:00, and it was worth waiting for. We had a morning like this on Nov. 1, and it was lovely.
Posted 11/03/2013 10:39 AM


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