Sympathy

The deer don't come to the apple trees.
The apples never fell
because they never grew this year.
A mystery, like the empty vines
beneath which there's no Concord stain.
Probably it's drought,
but it's right by the house where he now lives alone,
and I agree with the neighbor who walks a dog
that one absence might make other things go missing
in sympathy. I wonder if the lawn and street
miss the company of fruit.

October 28 2015

Grumble

I can't help feeling this
is the ruin of the year.
I'll take a red leaf
or a vine of porcelain berries
with appreciation,
but look,
it's just a consolation prize
for what we'll soon endure,
and once we're past the new year,
it's just a weary slog
to the grudging warmth of houses
and the door to Spring.

October 19 2015

Walk Wind

Still that wind
makes walking to the beach
a thing to flap his ears.
The ocean talks with many rising tongues
and the sun sends glory down
through running clouds.
Summer's given up the ghost
and autumn will do the same,
so bow your head in acquiescence
and against the wind you can't deny.

October 6 2015