September 1: Though acorns start to fall,
And equinox is still three weeks away,
We lose the evanescent light of day;
Despite bright mornings, night begins its sprawl.
October 1: The pumpkins are for sale;
Chrysanthemums grow gold or tawny rust.
Towards Halloween the warm days start to fail;
The migrant birds pursue their wanderlust.
November 1: The leaves are ashes now:
A cold wind sheared their glory from the trees.
A robin’s nest, deserted on a bough,
Begins to fall apart with each stiff breeze.
We watch the year begin to quickly go.
December 1: The weather forecast—snow.
—Mary-Patrice Woehling
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Christmas Spectacles, Good and Bad
This year marks the Radio City Rockettes’ one hundredth anniversary, and the annual Christmas Spectacular at Radio…
Harvard Loses a Giant
Two weeks ago, Prof. James Hankins gave his last lecture at Harvard before his departure to University…
When Life Ends Mid-Sentence
It was Gerstäcker’s mother. She held out her trembling hand to K. and had him sit down…
