Autumn Abundance by Renee Williams

Autumn leaves fall like unfulfilled dreams or unspoken wishes
as Canada geese honk overhead, engaging the V formation
with a lone straggler struggling to catch up.

So much undone, trips not taken, adventures not realized,
motorcycle rides missed to tend to loved ones,
summer flies away on the wings of the hummingbirds, taking our hopes with her.

Red-winged black birds are gone, harbingers of spring,
wanting nothing to do with falling temperatures or frost on cornstalks.
Juncos will arrive soon, demanding only the finest sunflower seeds.

Remaining leaves are golden, oaks the last to turn, autumn rains claiming what they can,
as breezes float through the branches. Squirrels scurry, carrying hickory nuts to their dens.
Stacks of wood are prepared for winter’s wrath of power outages and plummeting temperatures.

My soul is in a cup of warm mocha, a yoga blanket wraps my feet. Early evenings
become the norm, darkness descending, carrying a stillness so respected, a hush so soothing,
a solitude signaling surrender.



Renee Williams is a retired English instructor, who has written for Guitar Digest, Alien Buddha Press, and Fevers of the Mind.