Auguries of True Autumn

^{Autumn scene of cattle drinking from the Saco River, Maine, painted by Albert Bierstadt, ca. 1858.}

Auguries of True Autumn

If you listen
from beneath deep-night’s blanket of darkest blue
you’ll hear the moon croon,
the tenderest of lullabies
for the lonely awake in quiet rooms

where she can silver-slide
through window cracks, and guide with wider-glow
the owls and foxes, and the bats–
though soon they’ll go.

If you listen,
you will hear the tree roots slow their growing
as they drop rubies from their crowns,
and bury seeds to sleep till spring, these sounds

just barely perceptible, perhaps sensed in dream-showings
like scenes from a book you’re not sure you’ve read,
but somehow find yourself knowing, this thread
of what will be—you’ll see

in the morning’s leafy rustle
and the geese’ fast honking bustle,
you’ll recognize your dream vision,
whether wanted or unbidden,

that now the leaves are turning scarlet and gold
competing with the dawn,
more than augury, no longer foretold–
autumn is here, summer has gone.

This poem is a collaboration between the Oracle, Derrick Knight, and me. I took the title, minus an article, from one of Derrick’s blog posts.