A Nice Stretch of Autumn Weather
Sunday sonnet
Published in
Oct 27, 2024
A warm wind blows the scent of all these leaves.
When wind gusts slow, I hear those happy birds.
Bright Sun paints yellow gold upon the trees.
Leaves fall as branches wave for loss of words.
No dark forebodings bark this Autumn day.
This month is getting late. The scarecrow wakes.
October tempts before the world turns gray.
The leaves don’t blame. Words make the worst mistakes.
Days burn like Summer. Now, the nights hold sway.
Ticks waiting in the tall twigs. Check yourself.
The pumpkins ripen orange. Vines decay.
The garden slumbers. Produce lines the shelf.
This stretch of weather couldn’t be more nice
for catching rays out here in paradise.
Thank you, The Daily Cuppa, for publishing these Sunday sonnets.
