In the evening, katydids playing their rasps,
Pay no attention to the calendar: Today is the first day of fall.
Walnuts drop in the yard, striking the hard earth like a drum,
Bagworms return from their night feast to sleep the day away in their tents,
The deer are in the corn.
Our instinct tells us to stack firewood and fill the oil tanks.
We do not fear the coming winter,
We do not regret the passing summer,
We have this day,
We watch the long sunset from the hilltop.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
