On city streets, rough winds fly
snapping trees, bruising branches
while final fruits are coaxed to roundness
tender with summer’s sweetness,
a promise of thanks and giving both,
a slow subsiding of this year’s troubles.
snapping trees, bruising branches
while final fruits are coaxed to roundness
tender with summer’s sweetness,
a promise of thanks and giving both,
a slow subsiding of this year’s troubles.
Copyright 2021 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: Happy Halloween! This is a poem inspired by Ranier Maria Rilke’s Day in Autumn. A tree fell onto my husband’s car, but it backed out from under it without a scratch. It’s a year of worries, miracles and loyalty. May you find your own magic as the year dwindles.
10 thoughts on “Rough Winds Fly”
Leave a reply to beth Cancel reply
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Friendly Fairy Tales 
I’m glad your husband is okay and I’m all in for the last line of your poem
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! Eternal optimism here, too. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Happy Halloween Brenda & hopes for a peaceful year! 👻👻🦇🦇🎃🎃👾👾
LikeLiked by 1 person
Likewise. Let’s hope for peace over profit.
LikeLike
LikeLike
Thank goodness your husband is OK!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true. Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
May the troubles subside
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, please. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person