Five-o-clock Fall

 (this poem began stirring as I picked up my son at work last eve, but I couldn't commit to shaping it)

Autumn drinks daylight, its pale light soon stinted

Blue tumbled wind-song unravels in poem

Ribbon of wood-smoke climbs five-o-clock ladders

Lamp-light warms windows with home sweet, sweet home

Lush landscape mellows, chartreuse and bronzed yellows

Petrifies pastures where laughter of plume

Scattered through summer in murmurs of purple

…now every tree is a flow’r in full bloom

Dusk is a shepherd soft ushering shadows

Into a fold where Time’s gathered flocks sleep

Rivers of umber and russet rush softly

Beneath the fever of five-o-clock feet

Supper-aroma keens crisp chill with hunger

Dark-brooding dirge of farewell is unfurled

In tick-tock tempo, daylight is dismantled

Falling like leaves in a five-o-clock world

© Janet Martin

 I was drinking in the muted colors of dusk as we drove when Matt said "I'm pumped!" 

when I asked him why he grinned and replied,

"supper!!"

Remember those days when cool autumn sparked wild appetite?!

I loved coming in from the crisp outdoors to the smells of supper. 

Here and there houses were dark but for the most part lights warmed home windows and seemed to murmur supper-time.