Poetry has been a love of mine for as long as I can recall. Happily, my father preserved one of my earliest childhood efforts, crayon art and all. Given that autumn is upon us and my love for crisp leaves underfoot has not dimmed one jot, it seems reasonable to share this memory from long ago.
Thou tender encasement of woolen yarn,
Thou cocooning shelter of pooled warmth!
Sturdy cocoon, a harbor ‘gainst frost, your purled patterns
offer refuge for flesh, previously freed
to frolic in mosses and dance ‘round leafleted trees.
Toes dug lightly in the warm scented earth
that bred spring dandelions, nurtured the summer rose.
That same dirt -- now wearied with care – by Issue
fully ripened and birthed, and now full circle carried
to Harvest Home with thankful praise and blessings given,
while Mother Earth quilts herself in rust and grey.
Her blanket shelters the slumbering Fruits, hiding them
from Winter’s chill that slides past trembling Rays,
ushering in stillness and somber reflection.
As frost lingers and our Fair Sun hides her face,
Grant me Thy armor, Thy cordial affection!
Shield my extremities from Winter’s sly suggestions
of seasonal despair; wrap my numbed feet
in your loving embrace, and safeguard their memories
of Spring, simple joys and youthful pleasures.
By your grace, free them from Winter’s misery.