Autumn's Brigadoon

Moments amass; too oft we pass up opportunities

Leading to grass freeways and skies as wide as open seas

Edict of toil and soil foil plans fashioned by wanderlust

We grapple with life while wild apple trees spill, dust to dust

Time after time we climb the lower limbs of good intention

While bloom-bells chime, a pantomime of wealth and intervention

Time’s puddle that we muddle through is but a dash, a splash

A prelude to these wars subdued where good and evil clash

This spurt of dirt and hurt offers a longer, slower road

Where those less hurried trundle-tromp to destiny’s abode

The call to grassland freeways beneath blue, wide-open sky

Is autumn’s invitation; everybody should reply

Sometimes I wonder how much happier this world would be

If every gate would open to a garden and a tree

And shops would close up early because Autumn's matriarch

Spread every meadow like a quilt for picnics in its park

© Janet Martin