Bowing Out

Midnight Snack, Curtis Wilson Cost, 1984

As autumn ebbs toward final bow

and darkness settles early now--

we seek snug fire to fend the chill,

its soft glow shines upon the sill.

The plantings are all reaped and stored

except few pumpkins and stray gourd.

We spend our evenings sharing tales,

while cold breeze hints of winter’s gales;

and fend ourselves from chill and gloam

in light and warmth that we call home.

Well-sheltered behind frost-etched glass

we watch the seasons as they pass

and dream of Spring should Fates allow...

as autumn ebbs toward final bow.

© Ginny Brannan October 2012

Image provided by Tess Kincaid/The Mag.  The Mag #139

Sharing at d'Verse Poets Pub Open Link Night Week #66.