Most farmers in northwest Iowa have finished harvesting. Corn and soybean crops are combined and stored in elevators or bins, waiting for favorable prices. The garden produce has been eaten or preserved for winter. Plentiful pumpkins gathered up to sell at local stands and markets. Some orange orbs are carved into fierce or friendly faces, holding lit candles to flicker from porches.
The sun sets earlier now, as Harvest Moon is followed by Hunter Moon. Perhaps the native Lakota would have called it Falling Leaves Moon. They are still falling…red sumac, flaming maples, golden cottonwood blanket lawns, deep green underneath from generous autumn rains. Children rake leaves repeatedly into great piles, then run and jump, scattering crunchy debris with delight.
Pheasant season opens; eager hunters gather in the chill air, some accompanied by dogs in training. They patiently walk waterways and groves to flush out the birds, grown plump on corn. Whir of wings and sharp pop of gun, dog fetches dead bird, still warm. Someone will dress and cook their prize tonight. Pheasants raised for hunting keep population flush.
eyes glow in the dark
wandering possum or coon?
roadkill by morning
Frank Tassone hosts haibun Monday at dVerse where we’re howling at the Hunter Moon 🙂
A Villonnet is a hybrid of the Villanelle and the Sonnet. It has the Iambic Pentameter of both, but holds the four-stanza/line structure of the sonnet, while utilizing the two-line rhyme nature of the villanelle. The final stanza replaces the sonnet couplet with a typical villanelle tercet. Linking this villonnet to Grace’s prompt at dVerse Poets pub. I was NOT going to write about fall, but here it is…
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i sit on deck to soak in warm sunshine this end of summer’s glow suits my skin fine fat cats watch scene from shade and lounge around piped wind chimes’ gentle song is only sound
forgotten apple falls from top of tree while butterflies migrate, bees cap honey red leaves whirl past as if in joyful dance a celebration of autumn’s last chance
ripe orange pumpkins lie hidden in field as drying crops will soon their harvest yield pheasants and deer will feast upon the corn bred cows will glean before blizzards are born
today, september stays my favorite month until the wind turns cold out of the north then i will dream with birds of drifting south
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NOTE: Line 1 is to be repeated as lines 8 and 13, and line 4 is repeated as lines 12 and 15. I neglected to repeat any lines, not a true villonnet…may have to rework sometime!
autumn’s season when leaves must fall in colors of dying sunset across sky where canada geese high above us call their long goodbyes to summer’s home; they must move on as leaves must fall. farmers bring in dry harvest of ripe corn and deliver fattened cattle to butcher’s stall to supply grocer’s shelves to feed all our children hungry for winter’s first snowfall; in hopes of missed school days while haze of smoky fires burn dead leaves that must fall.
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This is a “fold” poem invented by Gillena Cox and featured at dVerse poets’ pub.
The Fold [Gillena’s guidelines] 1. 11 lines 2. The end phrase of Line 1 repeats at Lines 5 and 11 3. The rhyme of line 1 continues through in every other line 4. There MUST be a reference to nature and how it affects you, the poet
do you know what the earth meditates upon in autumn?
when north wind breathes fresh worship
over cornfield of heavy stalks bowed down
as ripe apples bless orchard with abundance
and tumbleweeds dance across rural road?
when crispy leaves gather in harvest pile
over rich soil fully yielded to waning sun
as pumpkins swell with orange-ribbed grace
and squirrel chatters praise for scattered nuts?
do you know what the earth meditates upon in autumn?
The beginning (and ending) question is from Pablo Neruda’s El Libro de las Preguntas.
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