Nightfall in an Autumn Field

Seed pods hold the promise
of next year’s crop.
The roots, long reconciled to seasons,
stand steadfast with no thought
of leaving.

The old maple has just begun to turn.
No sprouting sapling,
its branches have held the swing
for generations; ropes wear out
but not so those sturdy limbs.

Clematis wicks the air with sweet perfume
until Jack’s nip turns to lethal bite.
The coleus shivers to a deep maroon –
earth-tones are the fashion now
it seems.

The sun puts in a shorter day.
Twilight, accompanied by cicadas’ trill,
spills across the field pulling a curtain
of silence behind it. Night claims dominion;
all is still.

4 thoughts on “Nightfall in an Autumn Field

  1. BoardFlak

    There is a valley, along a highway, I used to drive through going to work which was spectacular in the Fall, with the tree-covered hills rising on all sides. When they would show on the news various great spots for colors, I would just smile because the one I saw nearly every day was just as good. Your poem reminded me of that valley, thank you.

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