Autumn Aria

 The land is laced in silver mist

And traced with russet scrim

The blue winds vex with brooding hex

That culls the laden limb

The brittle corn stands stiff, forlorn

Its fledgling verdure drained

June’s virgin sheen of knee-deep green

Is bronze and crimson-stained

The goldenrod is weaned of laud

The milkweed pod of silk

The pumpkin lords over all gourds

His jack-o-lantern ilk

Beneath high noon of azure swoon

The molten woodlands blaze

Before day’s husk drifts on swift dusk

And snuffs it from our gaze

Those garden-hikes are ghost-town-like

Through hollow orchards too

Stilled fallow lies beneath chilled skies

In slumber’s umber hue

Soft vesper cries its lullabies

Where nature’s naked tress

Turns whispers to a haunting tune

Of loss and loneliness

The land is kissed then lost in mist

Rain-song raids autumn scrim

The blue winds vex with moody hex

The singer of its hymn

© Janet Martin

Is there any month
quite like October
that tugs the lover of it
with such warring tides
of joy and grief?