Country Dusk, August
No longer is the road a tinsel strand
Whereon a line of motorcars flash by;
No longer is the summer sun a brand
Upon the smooth blue surface of the sky.
And where was heat and wind-blown dust, is peace
Of shadows now; where clamor, is repose
Of purple twilight and a slow release
Of dew on wheat and rustling long corn rows.
The rising moon unthreads the tangled way
Of books; cows cross a meadow on a path;
The trees are silhouetted, wistful-grey;
Against the sunset's yellow aftermath.
While squares of lamplight over windowsills
Betray the small farmhouses on the hills.
~Ethel Romig Fuller, Kitchen Sonnets
Back home again with memories of a walk in my sister's orchard.
I loved the discoveries of wood piles, tractors, rusty metal, and
above all else, apples.
This property has been in my family for a long time.
Nostalgia was the name of this stroll.
With apples my heart travels to home and a touch of autumn.
There is always a moment to sip a cup of tea.
Are you beginning to feel a touch of autumn in the morning air?
