The sky is alive with the glorious blues and pink hues
As the sun rose above the treetops and sparkled
Its rays of happiness into my soul. I love waking up
To the sounds of chirping birds and swaying trees,
As they dance among the clouds and bow gracefully
To Mother Earth, ladened with ther morning dew.
The diamonds glisten in the tender bluegrass, as the robin
Swallows his morning fortitude, poor wormy creature.
Morning glories, mums, and marigolds paint the carpet
Otherwise browned from the hot summer sun.
In the distant mountain tops the tugging steam engine howls -
Windiing through the corkscrew switchbacks of the hills.
The macadam road bounces the pick-up trucks and tractors
Revving their engines as they toil to their fields of hay;
Harvesting the last crops of grass and corn for winter.
The sweet smell of pumpkins and butternut squash...
Buttersweet corn fill the air with their aromas,
Savoring the fall harvest of winter fruits and foods.
In the far off farmhouse fresh spicey apple pie waits
On the window sill, cooling for the evening's meal.
The cows are mooing, their bellies bursting with milk
And the collies herd them to the barn, emptying their teats
As the rata pump pum of the milkers' machine drains their white gold.
The red tabby purrs and licks the drops, nestling his favorite
Bovine, and settles in for his own break of fast.
The rooster crowed long ago, the henhouse squawks in fury
Robbed of their fresh eggs for the farmer's morning feast.
The porkers run, not wanting this day to be done
And Tom turkey fears his fate. Only the birds fly free
From tree to tree, the butterflies and the bumblebees
Soon migrate and hibernate away. Leaves of fall
Crimson in their glory paint the skies like lollipops
A panoramic view of rainbows delight, tasty
Limes, and grapes, sour orange, and cranberry tea...
Imagine along if you will with me, the smorgasbord
Of flavors each foilage cove does make, and taste
The fruity, nuts, and grasses of their splendor.
Oh but to capture these colors all year through,
A season falling onto itself in the blazening array
Of golds and browns, purple majestic skies and
The wintry clouds mix with the linering Indian summer.
Crisp the smell of apples harvest, cobblers, breads,
Pies and puddings, baked pastries tempt my tongue.
What greater season to remember all that we are given?
If you sow well, you reap the benefits, and thus year end
Becomes a solace and thankful time for some.
Yet for others weathered storms, all their work undone.
The harvest comes and food we share in thanksgiving
With our neighbors, families and friends, giving grace
For our provisions, thanks for the table set before us.
And so it goes another season closed, a new unfolds.
Poems My Way - Valrie 09/14/2010
A better day is coming, and everything will be okay!
God Bless you.