Log Cabin Chronicles

October Morning

Rough edges of last night's
frost remain.

Around my knees
the sun is wrapped
warm as Christmas.

The air is keen
no lazy summer fragrance
to dull the senses.
It is
as light as air.

A bluejay screams
Those grapes are mine!
and dusty sparrows
take cover beneath
the raspberry canes.

The proud rooster pleads
again and again
for his hens to gather 'round.

He stamps about confused
doubting his summer charms
as the 'ladies' lose themselves
in the the bright fallen leaves.

Sharp colors
back up against each
other in stark relief
defying belief.

A delphinium sky
with clouds drifting by
to keep you from falling
and drowning.

Frances Bevency Errion

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Copyright © 1997 Frances Errion/Log Cabin Chronicles/10.97