Autumn Preparation








Autumn Preparation

Autumn skies are dripping gray.
The leaves are bleeding brown.
Green-hulled black walnuts are dropping
like heaps of hail hammering down.

Red squirrels are packing nuts
for winter days ahead.
As for me, I just turned up
the thermostat to my waterbed.

©2014 Freeda Baker Nichols


An Autumn Rose

Among the thorns, I found a yellow rose;
its petals shaped in perfect harmony.
It grew inside a thicket, I suppose
awaiting lovers’ hands to set it free.
I wandered down a path to reach the quay
when autumn wore her wrinkled satin clothes
and there beside the restless, singing sea,
among the thorns, I found a yellow rose.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIts secret place I vowed not to disclose
as light of moon shone on a myrtle tree.
The rose appeared in Mona Lisa pose,–
its petals shaped in perfect harmony.
Although it seemed to beg in silent plea,
without a word I shook my head and chose
to leave the flower in serenity.
It grew inside the thicket, I suppose.
Recalling your last words that quickly froze
my heart like snow in northern Zuider Zee,
I left the yellow bud to decompose,
awaiting lovers’ hands to set it free.
I wish that you and I could still agree
and write love letters in poetic prose
so that our prideful hearts would always be
like autumn roses ready to transpose
among the thorns.

© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols

(This poem is a Rondeau Redouble. The ocean picture is one I took at Rockport, Massachusetts.
The yellow rose bush grows in Arkansas at the home of Calla Linn. She  graciously gave permission
for her picture to appear here on my blog. Thank you, Calla Linn)