Earth knows no desolation,
She smells regeneration
In the moist breath of decay.”
— George Meredith, English Poet
The house is quiet as darkness sits
with me in this early hour while I sip
my coffee and consider the day ahead.
A warm afternoon is promised, and so
is a family picnic, some long awaited
time together. Tomorrow the north winds
will drive in cold and wet-ice as we begin
to feel autumn seep into our skins, a real
change that will make us believe summer
has finally fallen into a deep sleep. For all
my longings to see the change of seasons,
for all my joy in the comforts and beauty
of fall, the turn of leaves, the fair pansy
and hardy mum, pumpkin-spice, cocoa,
long nights, cozy throws and candlelight,
I find myself already reaching into thoughts
of new buds, blue skies, bright sun,
the chirp of baby birds nesting in the eaves,
and the fresh newness of spring, that pining
for renewal our soul aches to see resonates
as a constant pull in the deepest part of me.
—C.L. Fisher, October 2020
Unless otherwise indicated, all content, including writing and images, are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.
Poetic Meanderings 