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This Used To Be The Middle Of Autumn

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Welcome to
the new season,
one of my favorites.
We used to call this
the middle of autumn
Now, after intense campaigning,
it is officially known as
The Season of Many-Colored Leaves
Throwing Themselves at Your Feet
(Often in Sunshine)

This season will be immediately followed
by The Season of Crunchy Leaves

Oh, help me remember—
What is the name for the season after that?

October Begins

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October second—
nights cool, green maples
hum in the shower
practice scales under their breath
tuning up for the big show

Turn To Quiet

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last week we put the gardens to bed
today, the cemetery gates are propped open
wrought iron wedged into tall grass
for the summer’s last mow
the time has come to
turn to quiet

The Invention Of Weekends

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Time. Whole weeks or years
rush by. Sometimes I crave a


I give this, the Best Gift
to myself. Here—sit back
with a bowl of popcorn
watch the hurrying
from a comfortable seat in the stands

Such relief
that space to rest and breathe
to chew and digest
this vast and rapid world

Smarter than I used to be
is the best that can
be said

Something You Built In The Barn

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Every autumn, we follow.
The geese turn south, we face north
and begin building this sturdy fortress
cleverly designed to hold back blizzards.

They lift off over fields edged in cornstalks—
remnants the threshers missed, or ragged stalks
who stay behind to serve as markers,
to whisper their raspy message of the road
New Ideas planted in the minds of commuters.

Oh, one morning a different shaft of sunlight
illuminates our work. Now we can
hear that quiet hum, which has been
humming along the cornrows for a long time.
What we worked on so long and built so well
of whatever scraps were left behind?
Oh look at it. Not a fortress, but a boat.

Chrysanthemums Rush

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chrysanthemums rush
in full bloom through the garden
after their quiet
slumber through deep green summer
this is the season to shine

Sparrow, Leaf

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sparrow, leaf
world of brown sparrow
and oak leaf the same color
one livelier than the other

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

The Sketchbook


Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry