The air turned cool overnight. The cats are hunkered next to the door. My friend in upstate New York, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, posted a photo of a basket of dahlias. She gathered them to place in a vase since the cold front would surely wilt them.
We wait and wait for the air to turn cool. Then when it does, we gather flowers, fruit, caterpillars to save. Yesterday I released 3 new monarchs into the air. Today they are blown south by the cold front. Seasons change. Sometimes gradually. Sometimes suddenly. Write a small poem today about this changing time. What does it mean to you?
This week is the first week of the National Writing Project Write Out, so if you can, go outside. Let nature speak to you. Catch a poem.
Daisy’s cousin
Asteraceae family name
Heat loving plants
Light of morning sun
Invite them inside
A guest for the dining table
Margaret Simon, draft
Reflections on the Teche 
Eventually
One cherry tomato plant
grew vigorously
in early summer
blessing us with sweet
yellow bites
ripened in the heat.
The other plant
produced blooms
that withered
with no fruit.
Until now.
Now that the weather
is softening,
its foliage is lush,
its gifts of black-red orbs
are washed by rain
and cool in my hand.
Though there doesn’t need
to be one,
the lesson seems
to be about patience
as we each thrive
in our own time.
The lesson is just right. We teachers understand this more than anyone, I think.
Indeed, a lesson that could always use a reminder.
Hi Mary Lee,
I love your message even though there does not need one to enjoy the bounty. Oh that we could always remember it.
What a lovely photo, and your acrostic was the perfect form to choose.
We have color this year, but the drought has also brought lots of brown.
one red leaf among the brown
flutters easily to the ground
a sign of what’s to come
Your poem has a good meter and slant rhyme. I like the sound of it.
Hi Rose,
We were in Maine and thus Vermont enroute and saw some lovely colors, then at home when the sun breaks through and gifts us, wow. But signs of winter…..indeed. I love Amy’s flowers and those colors. Alas, I have to live vicariously. My gardening time was greatly reduced this summer. The yard needs work! I think your poem sums up “seasons.”
Woven,
the stems,
connect.
An array of colors,
beautiful flowers.
Woven,
the people,
connect.
An array of colors,
beautiful community.
by Adelyn, 6th grade
You picture such beautiful connections with your writing, Adelyn.
I love your phrase a guest for the dining table, Margaret. Amy’s photo is lovely. Here’s my poem draft:
A garden basket, woven by hand
With handle to carry it to and fro
Empty and waiting to be filled
Laden with blooms of color
Gifts of the flower garden
All season long the offerings
Continue, ready for gathering
Til time brings on change
And a last bouquet is picked
To grace the house with beauty
The basket will stand ready
Til seasons change once more
And again it will be brought
Into the garden by happy hands
That fetch flowers to enjoy
Each stanza represents a season with an empty or full basket, waiting or laden. Thanks for writing today.
Morning Reverence
I sip morning coffee lakeside.
Watching, waiting.
Grey clouds scud along,
hints of sun dot the sky.
“Wait a day and the weather changes,”
they say. Some days
nature’s sudden fury
demands our respect.
But today, a blessed moment.
Water ripples, moving
along like tiny fairies are dancing
in sparkly gowns.
Touches of blue appear above, bringing a smile.
At home a bouquet of lovely asters,
a basketful of glorious color,
reminds me of sun’s power.
And nature’s relentless gifts.
Janet Clare F. @draft
We all have the recent hurricanes on our minds. Nature can be so destructive. It’s nice to focus on the beauty too.
Isn’t that basket of flowers just beautiful! So cheerful and inviting. I just want to reach through my screen and pick it up. I agree that “a guest for the dining table” is a perfect line…pretty as the flowers.