Poem: Fall Promises 🍁🍂


Fall Promises

It was an unusually warm fall. Summers’ days lingered quietly protesting Fall's progress.

Trees stayed leafy green, with just a topping of Fall’s colors making a muted display.

Only the birds knew it was fall.

Where are the birds, are they silently tucked away for the coming winter?

I sit patiently waiting for the bird’s morning calls as I stand on my back porch.

I sit listening and watching for the bird’s calls by my morning window shrouded by trees.

I watch as an occasional bird makes its more subdued presence known, flying by.

Winter is coming, they are saying as they make their winter nests.

Squirrels flit by, playing and mating and searching and digging and climbing.

I look upwards and see a squirrel in his nest high upon a tree.

Cooler breezes suddenly pop in bringing a refreshing change to the malingering heat.

Fall’s promises are coming at last.


The bird’s know what time it is; the birds know.




My words of wisdom for the week is about the feelings of chaos and fear during great change:


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