Pumpkins pressing themselves
into the soil, leaching every
bit of warmth against mornings
that regale themselves in
silver trappings
Baskets line up like soldiers,
awaiting the heavy pull of produce
piled high by eager city hands.
Sun squints, unsure if it
wants to shine or just hang
in a foggy morning mist
Gloves hold hands as they await
some brute task
Leaves drip tears onto
frosty soil that gulps them,
licking its stony lips.
A contest entry
- late September by Namita.
300 points, ended June 8, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Lovely poem. Such an interesting and beautiful write on September. Really brings out the soul of the month. Thanks for entering.
Namita
-
you have touched upon september
and the joys of harvest can only be appreciated
after the labor of the day
nice
Mal
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