Autumn civilizes us
Summer's bare arms are sheathed
and the ritual of the cooling air sends us inside
to make schoolwork with sober chalkmarks
And I might say, drily,
"Autumn's softening light adds texture and shadow
to the still-yellow day."
Now analyze the poem.
But my students' eyes are elsehwere, on Autumn,
with its open space and windows
and living, biting insects
all still with us when we talk
And supposedly the famous leaves will don unsober brights
all too soon. But that bomb of color comes too late for Autumn,
verging on the foreshadowed winter.
(Screw the Fall! I'd rather not watch)
I prefer the daylight today, and the twittering, still-green trees,
and you, of course, and the texture of your sweater:
another Autumn, holding in the still-warm air.
Another fledgling attempt at verse. Do forgive the self-indulgence...
Anyway, an earlier instance (a more summery poem) can be found here.
Critiques are always welcomed.