playing games in front of the wood stove,
lighting candles.
Autumn means splitting kindling,
bringing in the geraniums,
wiping the dog's feet,
picking apples from the neighbor's tree.
Autumn means the rains have begun,
long dreary days of rain, and when you
find light, you'd better sit there as long as you can--
don't move too suddenly, or you'll remind the sun she's stayed too long.
grey-robed winter has arrived in the night, opened her cold,
long-fingered hand to accept a key-ring from flighty sun,
let herself in, unpacked her bags full of woolens,
settled in for another season. You know she plans to stay
for a long, long time. Better be friends with her.
Bring her hot cups of tea, light a candle and stoke the stove,
tell her to drag a chair up next to yours by the fire.
You can sit a long time with winter then,
murmuring stories, singing songs,
passing out more hot toddies until the messenger comes
in red suit, earthworm in beak, to announce the end of the visit.
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