Changing Seasons

Yellow leaves are scudding past the window

To lie broken on the rain darkened roadway.

Cars go by with windshield wipers

Beating like demented metronomes.

Winters encroaching spirit hangs around the door

A ghostly crepe myrtle wreath.

Today we should make a rich stew to scent the air

Or better still spice cake stuffed with sultanas,

Apple crumble and date squares.

Cold wet weather needs a cook in the kitchen.

6 comments

  1. Ely,

    I love this! It makes me taste Thanksgiving. (I know you’ve already had yours
    and ours is just around the corner).

    This poem sees both sides of the coin and shows the joy that lives within.

    Two new additions to Bon Mots:

    “windshield wipers

    Beating like demented metronomes”

    and

    “Cold wet weather needs a cook in the kitchen”

    Love them both…and love this poem.

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Ely, I like your poem and its images of approaching cold and good food. The last line, as Sarah said, is one to be remembered. The line “we should make a rich stew to scent the air” gave words to the venizen stew I made today, seasoned with garlic, onions and juniper berries. Thank you for reminding me that I enjoy being a cook in the kitchen.
    ptc

    Like

  3. I composed most of this while waiting for my ride. My friend and I went to London Community Orchestra’s concert, Brahms and Sibelius. It was wonderful.
    Thank you Sarah, as always, ‘you saved my bacon’. Thank you too for the encouraging words.
    ely

    Liked by 1 person

  4. hi Ptc
    thank you for reading this and the comments you made. Venison would not be for me,(I’m a semi-veg), but I am intrigued by the use of Juniper berries. Does the stew taste like gin? 🙂
    ely

    Like

  5. Hii Ely

    what a vivid poem that allows one to feel the pulse of the changing seasons. Unique details and phrasing, like the ones in this passage

    Cars go by with windshield wipers

    Beating like demented metronomes.

    Winters encroaching spirit hangs around the door

    A ghostly crepe myrtle wreath.

    makes this poem breathe with spirit and a haunting familiarity we can relate to, remember. This is a beautiful piece of writing and I have really enjoyed reading it!

    Thank you
    Wendy

    Like

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