One random day last month, Bonny shared a lovely poem. And Kat commented that we could all use more poetry, and suggested a regular “gathering of poetry.” And me? Never one to miss an opportunity for more poetry, I sent an email. And here we are . . . inviting you to a monthly “Gathering of Poetry.”
So. Let’s gather up our favorite poetry to share . . . on the third Thursday of every month.
And Now It’s September,
by Barbara Crooker
and the garden diminishes: cucumber leaves rumpledand rusty, zucchini felled by borers, tomatoes sparseon the vines. But out in the perennial beds, there’s one lastblast of color: ignitions of goldenrod, flamboyantasters, spiraling mums, all those flashy spikes wavingin the wind, conducting summer’s final notes.The ornamental grasses have gone to seed, haloedin the last light. Nights grow chilly, but the daysare still warm; I wear the sun like a shawl on my neckand arms. Hundreds of blackbirds ribbon in, settlein the trees, so many black leaves, then, just as suddenly,they’re gone. This is autumn’s great Departure Gate,and everyone, boarding passes in hand, waitspatiently in a long, long line.
Share some. Read some.
It’s a time to gather up some poetry!