October Farewell: The weather waits … but not for long
Indian woman with ebony hair,
turquoise gems with copper glints,
her woven dress is loose and many-hued,
her feet are bare.
She also loves the burning sun …
but she must go.
“So plant your lilies, dear,” she says,
“the gold and russet ones you found
by the road in Maine last summer;
the earth is holding them alive so far
in their temporary bed.
Be careful with them, maybe they will move
safely, and be there for you
next summer, near your door.
But you must hurry! He comes
striding hard in his frigid white
like a willful child.
He is not cruel …
only ignorant, perhaps.
He does not know he treads on flowers.”
—by Janice Thornley Smith, Cleaves Hill Road