Shadows bloom and wilt across the patio,
our new home sheds flakes of bright paint,
and, of course, it is October; the neighbors we don’t know
hang pumpkin lights like lamb’s blood over the threshold,
and from their porch rocking chairs stare at us, the strangers.
We disguise ourselves with smiles and wave.
And why not? Let the leaves fall and the grass grow high,
our new life floats around us in the frost-free air,
and we own the chaos of autumn; the weeds
would grow between our toes if we’d linger
into another two seasons. We are giddy enough
for a picket fence or a pink flamingo
and bring out Baby to see the splendor.
“Here,” we say like good parents, “is the color red
and over there, the irrepressible orange of joy.”
© 2013 by Marjorie Maddox from Local News from Someplace Else (Wipf and Stock, 2013) and used by kind permission of the author.
It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o’er…
what if forgiving was easy? what if overcoming heartache was as simple as a long…
The grass seems lusher in the wet gray air, but less approachable now through a…
This site is brought to you by A Network for Grateful Living, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. All donations are fully tax deductible in the U.S.A.
© 2000 - 2019, A Network for Grateful Living
Website by Briteweb