Wednesday, September 16, 2020




As I scan the garden, it appears

that a few plants I sowed last year

have moved on and left

no forwarding address.

Some have sauntered

from one end of the yard

to another, perhaps preferring

a sunnier or shadier location.

Worms, stiff as pipe cleaners,

are a testimony

to the deluge of winter rain.

Birds on telephone lines

resemble musical notes.

Above I hear the pulse

of a woodpecker as he seeks out

invaders under a tree’s skin.

I watch a spider offer a narcotic kiss

to a fly struggling in a web.

A tree trunks decaying armor

breaks away under my touch revealing

a chaotic city of insects.

The wind whinnies

through the weeping pussy willow

making their bare branches quiver

like an elderly hand.

Geese funnel across the sky overhead

as a giddy dragonfly zooms around,

and I almost expect to see

a jet’s contrail trailing

behind him.


  1. Beautiful as always Rose. Happy Wednesday.

  2. What a wonderful poem,Rose. I love it. It really captures the essence of the season.xo Diana

  3. i can see the pictures in my mind. Well done.

  4. Lovely, Rose! Such a perfect depiction of life in the fall garden! It's sad to see it end, but it's nice to get a break from the work. xx Karen