October 21, 2011

I see now that goldenrod ends its colorful days
by turning grey just as we humans do.  The tall
stalks bend now with soft grey poufs that once
were brilliant yellow gathered and arranged
in challenging spears throughout the meadow.
So many tiny turns of season had gone 
unnoticed by me until this year in the autumn
of my life.  I suppose the poufs will fly about
in a strong cold wind come one blustery day
and that is what they would like to do.  But I 
will like my cozy house, the pouf of my own bed
and my hair to stay right here on my head.