Autumn Poem by Ishmael Onserio

The sun is sinking to the west fast,
So early in the wake of each day this time of the year,
The chilly wind blows across the land swiftly,
Numbing the mortal bodies of the living,
The quakes over the rooftops are intensifying each hour,
Its terror is felt up to the inner dwelling attics.
The crickets are singing a little earlier these days,
Their voices trembling through the fallen leaves,
Echoing the change of times in sight,
The ground is clothed in a blanket of tree falls,
It has lost its magnificent scenery that was,
When the young roots of grass sprouted and waxed,
When that spring gave birth to the heated fields,

The fields are gleaming with a seasoned harvest,
Orange, yellow, red, purple and brown deciduous canopies,
All signs of prime ripening and timely culmination,
A transition, that winking of the sky for a moment,
The ground will feed on live humus come tomorrow.
The pinnacle of pumpkin harvest is here with us,
Breakfast and snack-time tables pumped with fruity displays,
Apple pies and crunchy slices of the time,
Fields are laden with delicious, sweet corn,
All emblems of the passing moment so evident,
A short dwell in the breezing cold before the raging time,
When shaking of jaws and lips will be intensified.

The waning light of day, a reminder through generations,
A walk into key times in history,
The whole world is testifying, even in lands beyond the seas too.
At the center, I recall those soldiers who fell defending us,
As they hoisted the mighty red, white and blue in foreign lands,
The cold whispers through the atmosphere now testify,
A signal of that solemn remembrance,
Of those belittled now and in the past years of intensified rage,
In the line of duty with those brave strides,
We owe them respect and remembrance,
This is their time to live again in our forgetful hearts,
The reincarnated memories of the slain patriots.

The candlelight of the sun has withdrawn all it offers,
Bouts of slimy sweat upon our faces,
The candid living now diminishing slowly,
Engulfed by immense shedding of the natural environment,
Mottled treetops wailing; those leaves falling helplessly,
It is a time of tremendous growth and change,
Nature is displaying its transitioned beauties in a timely manner,
Each passing day giving the next a marked button handshake,
Squirrels and beavers cracking nuts while they last,
Chipmunks and mice feasting on berries as the light shines,
Horned elks, moose and the rattle snakes heading to dens of safety,
The sky is clear, those melodious songs of birds are gone,
The puffed frogs and salmon heading up yonder for a spawn,
It is life programmed by nature's mysterious course of action.
Fall, the tidings of this annual time passing,
Call it Autumn, you will be right altogether.