POEM: "Afternoon"

I wrote this on one of the first days of summer of 2007, but the early morning shadows and the brisk air reminded me of autumn. The trail I was walking was cooled from a shower just before day break and the sounds of foraging birds filled the air, accented with the rustling of drying brush.

Just that week a comment from a friend said that autumn was her favorite time of the year, (I concurred) and this poem came to be. It may seem odd to write a poem about the fall on the first day of summer, but whatcha gonna do?

This is the first draft, and was certainly subject to review and several edits. But I never touched it after it was originally posted.

AFTERNOON
It is the afternoon
of the year.

Autumn spreads before me
long-legged shadows,
the air filtered
with the sweet
detritus of summer.

It is the season
of memory-filled sighs,
fire-hued trees,
a nuzzling of the soul
before long
days of night
and
the cold embrace
of leafless limbs
against
colorless skies.

It is the time
of seeking
warm
hands
loose
scarves
and promising
smiles.

It is the afternoon,
the welcome
restful,
well earned afternoon
of the year.

Terry L. Tyson
June 2007