A single red-orange leaf
floats unnoticed to the earth.
Acorns and hickory nuts
ping and thud upon the roof.
Once proud tall hollyhocks
droop in frostbit demise.
Logs lit to flame, hiss steam
hoarfrost warmed in hearth.
I sit, crocheted afghan in my lap
coffee mug nearby
and savor the season.


My favorite season. Yes, it’s nice to bring out the afghans or comforters and snuggle up in a worn sweatshirt. I like how your poem brought the essence of the oncoming of fall to mind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Lissa. My favorite season!
LikeLike
“Frostbit demise” is a terrific line!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks….the holly hocks, a very old fashioned flower, really do droop this time of year.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Like the sunflowers!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Time to tuck into some cosiness, I think. Lovely poem, Lillian
LikeLike
Thanks so much. Your kind words mean a lot …knowing your way with words and the quality of your poetry. So enjoy seeing you here over my first cup of coffee on another fall-crisp day! 🙂
LikeLike
We’re grey and raining. Typical English autumn.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’ve been thrilled here because the nights are in the mid to upper 70’s. (Still reaching 90’s daily)
Thanks for that Lil touch of fall.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Something about that coolness in the night — when we pop into bed and leave the window open — instead of the air conditioner blasting. Right? And here in New England, the trees are beginning to turn. Glad to give you a touch of fall!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very warming ☺
LikeLiked by 1 person
…like that afghan on my lap! 🙂
LikeLike