An Ode to Autumns Passing

buzzard[1]Years ago when I worked for an electronics company, whenever some left, transferred, or retired, I started to write comedic poems. I would gather personal information that included, goofs, fun stuff that were said or done.  And at their going away party we held for each, I was the poet of mirth that roasted the honoree.  It was a time when everyone had a good laugh as a remembrance of the individual. Someone said I should do it for money and for a couple of years I did.  I wrote for a variety of folks including a local popular radio station.  I finally stopped after 20 years when many of us were downsized and I gave up the short lived business.  So again I am writing some verse but nothing comedic.  I hope you will enjoy the “Ode to Autumns Passing” below.

The autumn air begins the change,

Trees of color make leaves so strange.

Fallen leaves gathered into a heap,

I gaze upon trees as they decide to sleep.

The air becomes crisp and I’m bundled up,

I smell rain coming while sipping a hot cup.

The coffee warms me as I continue walking,

Crisp air and darkened clouds share a bond as if talking.

With Thanksgiving approaching I think of my past,

So many of those days I have quickly amassed.

Each was so different the older I grew,

Never again will I experience all those that I knew.

Thanksgiving Day has quickly approached,

Often it feels as if years are encroached.

When we were young it was such a long wait,

We’re home from afar for that turkey plate.

Age is a burden that takes its’ toll,

Few relatives faded to a spiritual world.

I sense the table showing signs of gaps,

I think of them who’ve taken eternal naps.

Giving thanks for memories we cherish,

In hopes of beginning our foremost wish.

The heartfelt need to celebrate this day,

We look forward again to love and play.

This year is another time for collection,

As family gathers and gives much attention.

Together we share as plates begin to form,

While some watch football, I hope with no scorn.

The day ends into the night,

And families shortly part from sight.

Another holiday shared and passed,

I wish that I could make it last.

I look forward to the future without any fear,

Our families multiply with each passing year.

This day is the trumpet that calls for the season,

With snow on pines that celebrate with reason.

We are the ones, who are getting old,

The holiday is arriving with holly and gold.

The snow will soon fall to see it glisten,

Perhaps from afar, the Noels you can listen.

More changes abound, familiar melodies sung,

And wreaths and lights are meticulously hung.

A maddened rush to malls we search for a gift,

A caroling troupe compels smiling spirits to lift.

Each day is counted to that day of joy,

Smiling faces we espy on every girl and boy.

Gifts under lit pines waiting for morn,

Feet rush to the parlor after break of dawn.

This special day of photos and smiles,

Bits of wrapping strewn even on kitchen tiles.

This day was born from the first day of fall,

Happy Thanksgiving I say and Merry Christmas to all.


1 Comment

  1. buzzard33 said,

    November 20, 2013 at 21:14

    Reblogged this on Buzzard's Roost.

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