missing autumn, and you
recalling a spongy, sea-soaked cliff
berries hiding their garnet gleams between the browning ferns
how long it took to pick one pound!
reaching down with freezing fingers, wet gloves
he chill slap of wind
salt on my lips
and now I stand in the air conditioned supermarket aisle
choosing two pounds of cranberries and a Florida orange
missing you, and autumn
then, from the clerestory of my mind
the true memory drops like rain
when I picked berries just above the old lighthouse
bathed in sea spray, the fragrance of bayberry and bracken
happy like a child at play
I was alone.
I asked you, every year
just after the October frost
you always stayed home.
I missed you then, too
but I never missed the autumn