Village Squire, 1975-10, Page 1AUTUMN
October 1975
25 cents
As I walk I feel the nip of the sunshine breeze,
the painful cold of the earth on my feet.
There are golden -rod, purple asters in the moss -green gold
of leaves and grass. The garden fat
with tomatoes, pumpkins, mellow squash. Opulence
everywhere yet bruised with signs of death,
wilted corn leaves, mangled vines,
earth cold to get potatoes.
Some day my garden will be no garden but black flatness,
black, rotting, lifeless.
I don't lament the lost summer, or rebuke the quiet stealth
of inexorable nature.
I retreat to the warmth of my house.
-Sandra Orr