Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Change of Season

Wearing my sweaters more often now;
They’re saying it will freeze, somehow.
Most trees, still green,
Don’t look like winter yet.

Soybeans were harvested this week.
Green machine giants came down the road
Bearing their load
Before the cold could harm them.

How did the farmers do this year?
The water needed rarely appeared.
Still, farmers persist;
They’re made of tough stuff.

In my own garden, I cleared the weeds.
I turned the soil, and added more.
I made a row with my trusty hoe,
And buried garlic cloves, row by row.

Like flower bulbs, the garlic bulbs live
Through winter’s cold
And are so bold to reproduce
And give us food (in July).

No, most trees are not orange yet.
Warm days might return for a bit.
But soon, the rain of leaves will fall
And rabbits in their cozy dens
Will snuggle under snow’s blanket.

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