A Fall Poem - to celebrate the season

By Cherie Greene

October Present

And should I expect,

in this ripe, gathering-in time,

in this stately harvest age, after

the lush summer has fallen to fading,

when it's too late to cultivate

an unripe rhyme or to conjure a wet

spring sprout--

Might I expect--I did not, nor sought--

this astonishing green branch,

this fresh shoot?

Yet still, there you surge,

unanticipated grace, singing

Now!

now, color into my reaping feast.

                                                                     Concord grown Chioggia Beet