Autumn Calling

Libbylane

Autumn came to visit as she does this day each year.

Peddling her Equinox, breath thick with pumpkin beer.

“My dear! So nice to see you.” Voice raspy from leaf smoke.

“I’ve got new merch for you this year,” and opened her blood-orange cloak.

“First up, the same old candy corn. Smells better than it tastes.

I’m giving it away today to cut down on the waste.

Let’s see, new flannel swatches out in colors blaze and rust.

Here, taste this Autumn seasoning blend. On popcorn it’s a must.”

I grabbed a few small odds and ends to kick off Fall’s return.

Some harvest fruits from Mabon’s roots, candles for ritual burn.

Then Autumn’s tone turned serious, her ancient face ash grey.

“Are you ready to behold what brought me here today?”

She swept open the lining of her fiery velvet cloak.

Revealed inside, my eyes grew wide, were jars of ghost-white smoke.

“I have this year a gift for you more precious than them all.

Inside these ghost-white smoke-filled jars hold memories of fall.

Come take a look and sneak a peek inside your Autumns’ past.”

My eyes began to water, my heartbeat lightning fast.

I turned the lids to see things hid within my smokey jars.

Frosted football fields, my trumpet squeals beneath the Friday night stars.

Suddenly I’m barreling down the dusty country gravel.

I’m in the cab of grandfather’s truck on backroads we once traveled.

He passes me his farmer’s stash of candies, hard and sweet.

My hand grabs red hot cinnamon. Always little me’s chosen treat.

My youthful eyes meet his, deep and wise. I start to lose my breath.

He smiles that gruff old farmer’s smile and reminds me that in death

Comes fresh, new life beyond the grave, beyond the human tomb.

“Remember, you will find me where the morning glories bloom.”

With that, his ghost-white smoke disappeared into the corn.

Alone on that dark Autumn road my spirit was reborn.

“This one. This jar’s the one I want. What’s your asking price?”

She opened up her weathered hand to reveal a single dice.

“Roll 1? Such fun! You owe me none. Your jar is free today.

Roll 2? Boo hoo. I steal two memories from you. You sure you want to play?

Roll 3? Let’s see. You come with me. To Fall’s eternal grave.

Roll 4? You score! The jar is yours. Are you still feeling brave?

Roll 5? Alive! Your heart will thrive like mine forever more.

Roll 6? No tricks. The lucky six. All smoke-filled jars you’ll score.”

I stood in speechless silence as the winds began to blow.

My mind enticed a roll of the dice, but my heart’s voice whispered “no”.

“No thank you, dear old Autumn. I won’t play your game with you.

I don’t need dice to seal my fate, for this I know is true:

Your smoke-filled jars already are tucked in my memory bank.

So, let’s cheers with two cold pumpkin beers, for I have you to thank,

For years of golden maple trees, red apples, caramel sweet.

For bountiful yields of combined fields, crisp nights of “trick-or-treat!”

These ghosts are with me always, I don’t need your smoke-filled jars,

They visit me this time each year beneath the Autumn stars.”

And with that, Autumn wrapped her cloak around her goddess frame.

“I’m off to see if someone else will play my little game.”

I stood there for a moment, mind lost in past Hallows’ Eves,

And inhaled a deep breath of September’s sweet death from her smokey, crackling leaves.

21 thoughts on “Autumn Calling”

  1. Well Lib..I saw the colors, smelled the smoke, pictured grandfather and you with your curly hair and am looking forward to the start of autumn in Chicago…you are absolutely born with the gift of writing! Can’t wait for more! Love you!

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  2. Libby, Your poetry is beautiful. I see a book in your future. They need to be published and shared. Your gift of writing is truly special. Your rich words, visually bring back so many thoughts and feelings. Thank you for sharing!! Love you, Aunt Riz

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  5. I “felt” your writing about autumn, so lovely, a favorite time of year. And I loved your mention of your grandfather.

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  6. I loved this. You share your mother’s talent in being able to touch others with your writings. I could see, feel, hear, and touch Autumn through your beautiful words. Thank you for sharing your talent with us.

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  7. I loved your Autumn writing. Your words are so descriptive. You ease us into all our senses and memories of Fall…my favorite season! Great work, Libby.

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  8. I always envied your mom’s poetry writing and how it seemed to flow so easily. It’s evident that her talent passed onto you…lucky girl! Thank you for sharing. ❤️

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  9. I am still processing this, Libby. It is pretty deep. I will comment futher as I continue to review what you have written.

    Love,

    Dad

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  10. Libby, Hi. I am a High School friend of your Mom’s and follow you. I wanted to tell you how much I love this writing about Autumn. Fall is my absolute favorite season and this writing by you has opened all the doors in my memories of Fall. Thank you for writing. I look forward to more of your creations. Thank you sincerely, Juanita (Peterson) Bainter.

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