A Poem for Autumn
There comes a time
When roots are truly ready to be pulled from the earth.
And we all feel the transitions.
Cool foggy mornings have us in our thick coats
And the spinach is covered in frost.
The sun still moves east to west
But with different hues and angles.
We see each other in new ways.
Our coolers are full of more color than they’ve seen all year;
It turns out, the roots and bitter, spicy things show more signs of life,
And they pull us all in by charming our eyes
Until we feel grounded.
There’s a pile of squash at the Farmstand,
You’ll see it.
We planted those seeds for you.
For all of us.
We rested, tilled, nourished.
Moving from greenhouse to greenhouse,
Then into the dirt.
Plastic. Water. Implements.
Now we witness as these fruits give themselves up with abundance.
I’ll cook a Kuri down in some curry
And you’ll caramelize some delicata delicately.
Oh, but, whatever will I do with a Butternut?