Sunday, May 3, 2009

Fall

Fall

Fall sneaks in like mice at night.
One day, the trees are green;
flowers bloom; tomatoes still produce.

Yet, next morning, summer’s elegance
flees at 32 degrees and below.
The first freeze is always the toughest, most brutal.

I try to cover the vegetables,
anticipating the initial freeze.
But the day before, that gorgeous 72

and no wind lulled us into a false security.
Even at midnight, when I rise, a bit blurry-eyed,
to relieve the one glass of water too many

before bed, the temperature still hovers around 40.
Not feeling the mercury drop outside, I climb back
under the red sheets, now cold from my absence,

fall to sleep, thinking nothing of the frost
that surreptitiously creeps in around 2:00 a.m.,
delicately kissing each tomato, each colored flower.

Frost is no respecter of flowers or vegetables
or anything that might be dainty and vulnerable.
He is clandestine, yet sometimes blatant, and then lingers

for his big brother—winter’s snow—cheating
everything beautiful, yet simultaneously creating beauty
in his own wonderfully white, fresh way.

And spring, their sister, waits her turn, patiently.

2 comments:

Ketchup and Sauerkraut said...

This was beautiful, Dad. I love the imagery created. It makes me miss working out in the garden with you... it makes me miss home.

Thank you for sharing this with us!

Darrel L. Hammon said...

Thanks, Hailey. I worked in the garden yesterday. I did need some help as my back is not feeling as sharp as it needs to. I planted, peas, onions, and potatoes yesterday. This year, I have a chicken wire fence up so the peas can crawl up it. Plus, I planted the six new raspberry plants that I received a week or so ago. I hope all of this produces so you can have some later this fall.