As Autumn arrives, the arc of the sun shifts. The sky can show us the seasons if we learn to watch. One of my former students, a young mother, lives on a farm where they grow seasonal sunflowers. There’s a crop in the spring and this year, another in the fall. They open up on weekends for “you pick” days. I follow her on Instagram and have a totally romantic view of life on a farm. It must be hard work, especially with the hot, dry days we’ve had this fall. Nevertheless, this image popped up on my feed and I thought it wanted to be a poem.
Blossoms face the rising sun
Margaret Simon, draft
Kiss her yellow light
Open wings to heal your heart.
Your turn. Leave a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your comments.
Reflections on the Teche 