Autumn

Sending Autumn Upon A Cloud

Soybean fields have turned a rich golden brown.
The straight rows of sunflowers which inhabit a massive tract of land,
Exploded into bright yellow blooms for a few brief days,
Smiled upon the earth like a thousand happy school children,
Then, succumbed to a heavy rain and stand, now,
Like elderly men with heads bowed and shoulders stooped.
Deep blue skies are dappled with brilliant white clouds,
The shadows of which traverse the rolling prairies.
Birds are gathering, massive flocks that swirl as a fluid unit
Looking more like a school of fish than avian forms.
The farmers, in John Deere caps, sit proudly inside their combines
Harvesting tall corn, leaving behind only stubble, and an openness
Reminiscent of winter.
There is a chill in the evening air,
A feeling that both invigorates me, and brings a little tingle of fear.
I have never been able to describe this anxious feeling
Which envelopes me each autumn
And departs at the first snow fall.
Perhaps it is a rudimentary reflex,
A physical demand to pursue sanctuary for the impending winter.
I marvel at its chilling affect on me,
An experience novel to this unique time of year.
Trees have begun to change colors, intense reds and oranges and yellows.
Sedge-brown grasses proudly proclaim their crop of seed
On straight, tall stalks in hedgerows.
Late season wildflowers send sweet, intoxicating scents across the meadows,
As a lone red-tailed hawk circles slowly over head.
Grasshoppers abound, leaping from the path as I walk through this harvest gold world.
A lofty pair of Great Blue Herons stands in the remaining pool of green, stagnant water,
Which earlier this summer sparkled blue and clear and fresh.
Plump, rich brown cat tails, in numbers too large to count, encircle the water’s edge
Where a muskrat has built a heaping winter’s home.
Standing at the edge of all this tranquil beauty,
I close my eyes, feeling the sun’s warm rays upon my face,
And, I send these images to you,
Carried upon a luminous cloud I chose just for the journey.

copyright 1997