Ode on Autumn...a sonnet

Thou Harbinger of hearth and fireside

Who gifts thee with thy keen expenditure

Of scarlet prelude ere thy flame subsides

And falls; a sweeping, silent overture

And is thy kiss anointed thence with death

Or is it life that falls beneath the tree?

Thy seed returns to slumber in the earth

And man is powerless to set it free

Ah, who directs the geese that graze thy dome

Or bends thy orchard limb with gold and red?

Thou who rousest both dirge and passion’s poem

We touch thy face with eagerness and dread

And long to gather all our loved ones home

Whilst thou unleashest gardens overhead

Oh, strike the lute and raise thy banner high

Thou rebel-rouser with a lover’s kiss

Soon, soon the hour will force on us good-bye

And all that we can do is reminisce

So hold me nearer; let me feel thy tear

And taste the salt upon thy weathered cheek

Time does not cater to young love, my dear

Ah, listen to my thought; I cannot speak

But only feel the tremor on thy lips

Thou wanderer of dark and empty night

Philanderer of leaf; each moment drips

Until the hour is rife with farewell’s plight

Where you torment my mouth and fingertips

Thou troubadour of sorrow and delight

Thou Harbinger of both cradle and grave

Of flower stripped and hour weak with want

Even the boldest and the bravest brave

Cannot withstand a mighty minute’s taunt

And breath by breath, we sense and empathize

With thee; oh little laughter on the tree

The skin of things is such a thin disguise

Oh autumn; wilt thou linger tenderly

And spill thy honeyed candor on my day?

Then I will close my eyes; dance recklessly

Thy absence is too close for me to say

‘What is has been and what must be will be’

But I will revel in thy bluesy sway

For I can feel thy arms slipping from me

© Janet Martin