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Gray Autumn Mornings
by
Maureen Hand


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On gray autumn mornings,
one sees the lilac tree
wrinkled and spent
from weight of many seasons.
Mayís purple brilliance
replaced with fallís faded hue.
On gray autumn mornings,
one readies for winterís shroud.
Pull up impatiens, prune roses,
pluck last of tomatoes,
plant new tulips.
Put everything in order.
On gray autumn mornings,
one fears Decemberís frost.
Will it be harsh?
Will it linger?
Will it burden plants?
On gray autumn mornings,
oneís mind flits
from thought to thought
like that bumble bee
hunting for nectar
on the lilac treeís
knotted branches.
††

This poem first appeaed in A River Reporterís Literary Gazette (2008).
Used here with the authorís permission.

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Maureen Hand began writing poetry when she retired from teaching high school English and writing ten years ago.†She agrees with W. H. Auden that poems are just stories with the boring parts left out. Maueen lives in Amsterdam, NY.

New comments are closed for now.
dotief@comcast.net:
Very nice!
Posted 11/03/2013 02:10 PM
TheSilverOne:
Lovely poem, Maureen!
Posted 11/03/2013 01:45 PM


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