Season of Bounty

On this first day of summer, I decided to write a poem about the first day of autumn. Don’t ask me why… I usually love summer. All the seasons, in fact. I am linking this up to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night #197, where all styles of poems welcome on this occasion.

Ardent berries she folds over

For birds to peck, hedgerows to trim.

A casual fling of hoary mantle

Is all she needs to silence doubters.

Pyres of leaves burnt in her honour,

Lawns raked neat, while woodland damp

Moves in shrubbery unnoticed.

Two mushrooms sulk in rotten greys.

The toad’s eyes wary as in the brambles

A hedgehog sinks in compost nest.

Times of plenty breed unlikely allies.

Someday you and I might still be friends.

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32 thoughts on “Season of Bounty”

  1. I love the way this poem captures the rich hues of autumn, Marina Sofia. It’s one reason that I like autumn best, actually. And you’ve got the essence here, beautifully depicted.

    1. Yes, summer can get a bit samey (although never in England, where the weather changes five times a day), so autumn often appeals to me with its crisper air. And spring is full of hope rather than accomplishment, potential always more appealing than actual glory.

  2. On the first day of the meteorological summer….thoughts of autumn.
    You’ve gathered some lovey images in your poem.
    I am always amazed by spider webs with dew drops, nature’s jeweled necklaces!

    1. Aren’t they just beautiful? I remember a morning like that in France, walking my son to school, and the whole way we saw nothing but these necklaces of bedewed spider webs… Magic!

    1. There is a Romanian poet George Topirceanu who has a beautiful poem about animals chatting and scrabbling about and getting ready to nestle in autumn. I’ve only just thought about it now, but I must have subconsciously been influenced by it.

  3. So sorry, unexpected visitors last night have made me rather late in responding to your piece. Very pleasing and acutely observed writing – really enjoyed this, all the way through to your clever finish…

  4. The mushrooms is the French touch. I bet your English friends would be more inclined to see toadstools in the woods 🙂 The colours and tastes in this are delicious, and there’s not a hint of sadness in it 🙂

    1. Yay, a happy poem at last from my melancholy pen! Yes, it’s the Franco-Romanian touch of going out to gather mushrooms. I’m afraid I’m not quite sure which ones are safe to eat, which not, but I usually go with relatives who do know and we then have a delicious meal at the end of it.

  5. I do wish we had a proper autumn but it’s mostly just more summer here. I love all the details in this with the hedgehog sinking and the toads and shrinking mushrooms…charming, Marina. And love your ending…sweet.

  6. The images capture the nostalgia I feel when autumn sets in. It is beautiful in a solemn way. Your poem conveyed it.
    “Pyres of leaves burnt …” reminds me of an eastern funeral tradition. Strong autumnal image.

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