Change to Sweaters

 

Summer has left us.
In the much cooler nights
The absence of mosquitos
The honking of geese
The butterfly meanderings
The blushing cavalcade 
Of deciduous CRAYOLA.
The bursting show tables
Of Farmers Markets.

But can we shed tears
Living here in delicious
Canadian change and Seasons?
I think not.
I have spoken with the dairy cattle
Bunched in field’s corner fencing.
Ruminating.
They moo their contentment in
Much of the above.
In confidence that the warm
Intimacy of winter’s shed
Will soon arrive.
The lanterns, the stored up hay.
The smells of togetherness.
The daily milkings
From that kindly Man
Or his pig-tailed Daughter.
Singing the latest.
And never rushing.