Tag Archive | autumn



By Maggie Dietz

From the book, That Kind of Happy

Show’s over, folks. And didn’t October do
A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries
Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon.

Nothing left but fool’s gold in the trees.
Did I love it enough, the full-throttle foliage,
While it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees

Have up and quit their last-ditch flights of forage
And gone to shiver in their winter clusters.
Field mice hit the barns, big squirrels gorge

On busted chestnuts. A sky like hardened plaster
Hovers. The pasty river, its next of kin,
Coughs up reed grass fat as feather dusters.

Even the swarms of kids have given in
To winter’s big excuse, boxed-in allure:
TVs ricochet light behind pulled curtains.

The days throw up a closed sign around four.
The hapless customer who’d wanted something
Arrives to find lights out, a bolted door.

An Autumn Cricket


By Clinton Scollard

In the warm hush of the autumnal night
I list one lonely cricket sound its clear
Persistent music, telling that the year
Has passed the summer zenith of delight.
And though I know that soon in gypsy flight
The birds will wing, and all the hills grow drear,
Yet doth my heart keep constant hold on cheer,
Hearkening this tiny minstrel-eremite.

Then keep thy fine-keyed instrument in tune,
O small musician, till the last leaf falls,
And the last blossom shrivels with the rime,
That I may stray through Autumn’s ruined halls,
With golden memories for a buoy and boon,
Indifferent to the onward tread of Time!