Tree leaves dry and fall.
Hydrangeas, zinnias, impaciens
brown around the edges.
While blue mist spirea blooms thrive.
Attracting bees, butterflies by dozens
to soft, fragrant blossoms.
Taking chilly air in stride.
Rejoicing the changing seasons.
An attitude I’d like to don,
along with jacket, scarf, gloves,
on crisp late September mornings.
So now, each day as I stroll by,
I pinch a bud, a leaf.
Sniff aromas heavenly
to postpone transition grief.
Though Winter hides, teases
behind perfect autumn days,
I refuse servile submission
to her dark and cold charades.
Instead, like hungry honey bees,
I’ll find my favorite flowers.
Frolic, play, and hover,
scatter pollinator powers.
Lynn Benjamin
September 29, 2021
