Autumn Call

This poem is shared with love, in remembrance of my friend, Margie, who passed in 2019.

Who has not yearned to capture in a phrase
The mellow mood of golden autumn days—
When earth is bathed in hazy amber hue
And azure skies disclose the source of blue
The sight of falling leaves sets me astir
Autumn calls and I must follow her—
Leave a lesser world to tramp one more
On leaf-strewn paths far from urban chore—

To feel the scrape and crunch of sneakered feet
Kick along the leaves on tree-lined street
Breathe deep breaths and sense the slightest trace
Of smoky scent from fresh-lit fireplace
Pause to watch the leaves in spiraling flight
Mingle with the cries of sheer delight
From children as they frolic in a mound
Of gold and crimson, orange and rust and brown—

Thrill at honking geese in v-shaped flight
Or when a golden poplar looms in sight
Stroll in windy woods, leaves ankle-deep
Watch them twirling, swirling in a heap
Then climb the rolling hills to sunlit field
Where blazing autumn vistas are revealed.
Who has not hoped that others—perhaps you—
Hear the autumn call and heed it too.

—Margie Ashe
© 1992
Originally published in Hawai’i, 1995
Shared here in loving memory