POETRY FRIDAY: Home by Bruce Weigl

Although nearly everything is still growing green around me, there is that “autumn is nearly here” feel in the air. Fall is my favorite season so I welcome it with open arms--even though it signals the coming of cold days, long nights, and the eventual cocooning indoors for a few months.

As summer finally cedes to autumn, it often evokes my most robust childhood memories of collecting chestnuts, scrunching through fallen leaves, the scent of burning leaves, school harvest sales, and my maternal grandmother’s enormous pans of apple squares that she baked with fruit from the trees in her yard.


Home
by Bruce Weigl


I didn't know I was grateful
for such late-autumn
bent-up cornfields

yellow in the after-harvest
sun before the
cold plow turns it all over

into never.
I didn't know
I would enter this music

that translates the world
back into dirt fields
that have always called to me


You can read the rest of the poem here.

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At Wild Rose Reader, I have reviews of three children's books that contain poetry about autumn and Dappled Apples, a picture book written in verse.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Author Amok.