Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FALL PLOWING, by EVA K. ANGLESBURG



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FALL PLOWING, by            
First Line: Fades indian summer's brief, bright interlude
Last Line: Grim relics that are withered, bleached and gray.
Subject(s): Indian Summer; Plowing & Plowmen


Fades Indian Summer's brief, bright interlude.
Long, penciled lines of wild geese southward fly.
Stripped of their golden splendors, stark fields lie
Despoiled, and desolate. Bleak thoughts intrude
In this dark, dismal season so imbued
With grim reminders that all things must die,
For snow has not yet come to typify
The promise of a life, cleansed and renewed.
Hoarse winds, with wearied voices, sob and moan
An endless requiem. The gray skies weep
For summer and for beauty that has flown.
Across the great, drab plains the plowshares creep.
They leave broad mourning bands and hide away
Grim relics that are withered, bleached and gray.





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