Aboard an Autumn Ship

Posted by Brad Osborne on September 10, 2019 · 11 Comments 

Though the days grow short

With harvest solstice passed

The changing air still courts

A warmth that seems to last

Greenery remains aloft

As yet to take the plunge

And dapples mountain far as soft

As painter’s well-worn sponge

Snap now fingers of morning air

The frost will be here soon

Fear I loss of sun so fair

Save for the beautiful moon

Oh, the joy of summer days

Remembered to the last

I knew that you could not stay

But have forsaken me too fast

This omen of impending cold

Colored tapestry of new fall

Like seasons growing ever old

You hear the reaper’s call

Bounty, bosom, and harvest shared

Fields readied for their sleep

From winter’s touch may I be spared

The friend in you I keep

But as all seasons come and go

I know you’ll leave me too

Like call of morning rooster’s crow

What else are you to do

In days ‘tween summer’s heat

And winter’s deathly grip

Warm winds fill sailor’s sheet

Aboard an autumn ship

Filed under Poetry · Tagged with at sea, autumn, fall, poem, Poetry, sailing ship, seasons, strict form poetry, summer, winter