Before the snow covers everything…
September Sun never quite rises,
Choosing to slink along the ridgeline,
Collar turned up against the coming darkness,
Bound for the back door and it’s own
Glancing sideways at the forest on the way out
It cuts sharp shadows never seen in summer
That split the stream and
Frighten the trout.
Will the figs ever turn?
The tomatoes, a huge crop not slowed by rot or beetles,
Are gone. Sauce in the freezer and salsa in jars.
The peppers are expanding their palette,
Greens into yellows, reds into purples.
Basil is pesto, rosemary is drying and
Cardinals are noshing the sunflowers.
But will the figs turn?
They were late arriving from their winter’s sleep but
Now they’re here in numbers-small, green and hard
Needing another month of summer
That none of us get.
Even the plants in the bottom near the stream,
Whose thick resinous buds will get us through the winter
Are ready to dry and cure.
But somehow I failed the figs.
Twenty more warm nights where the stars swim in the humidity would do.
But not to be.
The stars are crisp in the fall evenings and the figs,
Born but not bred, will be left to freeze,
Blackening on the naked branches.
A reminder that resurrection needs luck-
As much as faith.
© – TDR 2019