Indian Summer

Dusk settles as dust across earthen land,

as warmth seeps slowing from woodland

stretched before me like a downed comforter.

Come warmth, come and slip between

leaf’s edges, slide down empty limbs as

luminous sun grins across the autumn sky.

Indian Summer charms man’s inner soul,

tricks the body’s brisk well being;

but the mind knows this is November!

Breathe in the last of lingering warmth;

let it radiate, resonate, regurgitate before

the killing frost returns to blanket the earth.

“Lyric night of the lingering Indian summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing. Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far off, high in the maples The wheel of a locust slowly grinding the silence, Under a moon waning and worn and broken, Tired with summer.” -Sarah Teasdale

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) was an American Poet

The perfect weather of Indian summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air.” -Wallace Stegner

Wallace Stegner (1909 –1993) was an American novelist and historian

An Indian summer is a period of unseasonably warm, dry weather that sometimes occurs in autumn in temperate regions of the northern hemisphere September to November.

This year it has come rather late in Wisconsin. Most of the trees have shed their leaves, we have endured freezing temperatures and seen a dusting of snow.

October’s Final Dance

My soul is still

as late October’s

sun glows above

fingered bare branches.

My heart is chilled

as Autumn clings

tightly to daylight.

My mind wanders…

as darken cornfields

twist, trembling their

fibrous dried stalks.

Yet, happiness comes

from chattering oaks

dancing in November.

“Let them praise His name with the dance;

Let them sing praises to Him with the timbrel and harp.”

Psalm 149:3

https://dversepoets.com/

Storms of Leaves

They change before my eyes:
translucent, transparent telling
of coming changes chanting
their farewells across the sky.

If trees could talk what would
be said of their transformation?
Would willows weep or birches
balk as their leaves are wisp away?

Maples seem to chatter in wind;
while oaks remain stately and only
rumble, rattle, roar as autumn exits
clinging to their crisp leaves till spring.

My life could be as those sturdy oaks
torn by stormy winds on darken days,
as seasons change by hand of God I
choose to cling to Him until spring again!

I would fly away and be at rest.

Indeed, I would wander far off,

And remain in the wilderness.

I would hasten my escape

From the windy storm and tempest.”

Psalms 56:6-8

https://dversepoets.com/2020/10/15/openlinknight-276/

Why Wolves Howl

Between a sentinel of trees, in the deepest of twilight an image lurks down moon lit path. A chill in the air ruffles thick fur. He is alone. Each step leaves paw prints in the dirt as evidence of his presence, under a dangling moon. He finds a knoll. There he sits waiting as time ticks slowly by until the moon, a blood moon, ascends to its highest point in the autumn sky.

When no one listens,
howling wolf calls to another,
as blood moon rises.

Cease listening to instruction, my son,

And you will stray from the words of knowledge.”

Proverbs 19:27
https://dversepoets.com/2020/09/28/haibun-monday-9-28-20-to-the-moon/
It is a myth that wolves howl at a full moon. They howl to communicate at anytime. It is thought people noticed their howling more during a full moon, because extra light brings people out at nighttime. We do a lot of howling in our house even on moonless nights!