Uncommon Season

by Ron Reed

Alas this uncommon season girdled,
autumn from summer
with vibrant color anchored
to its cradle unfallen.
Does winter tease,
to rob us of colored blankets,
or wait patiently its turn.
Blue skies pretend warmth,
a brisk reveal at hand,
a season sanctioned by remembrance,
denied by presence—oh beautiful night.
A hunter’s moon standing sentry,
revealed and cloistered in meaning,
what meaning we find,
in all that surrounds us,
surrenders us to now.
In the end it is autumn,
despite warm rebellion.
The beginning of dormancy,
of rebirth and renewal,
a second chance,
for the millionth time.

©Ron Reed 2011

One thought on “Uncommon Season by Ron Reed

  1. A lovely poem about my favorite season, Ron. Your pleasure and love of Autumn is expressed in your vivid imagery and the metaphor of the changing leaves as colored blankets is fresh and new. I can see the “hunters moon” and the clear blue sky which looks warm but has that tangy chill that is so energizing as you communicate and express through this “uncommon” poem.


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