(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.
