Wednesday, October 1, 2014



Each year you shed your corset,
tilt sunflower head, wink.

Display contours of peaks and valleys
I love.  Intimately hold my hand,
invite me to suckle from swollen breast
all the nourishment I need -

bolster me for November's
stinging slap.

by Margaret Bednar, October 1, 2014

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Words Count with Mama Zen" - the personification of October in 53 words or less.

Monday, September 29, 2014



"The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes
from the summer cottons into its winter wools."  Henry Beston

Leaves have yet to fall,
yet to flush golden, crimson, fire.
Horses yet to shed summer coats,
stand nose to tail beneath heavily laden trees.

Rose-purple blazing stars, rioting asters
drape field and valley.
Bees absorb Autumn's sun
as storm clouds gather.

Cattle tagged and fattened;
idyllic days slumbering - numbered,
as are canopies of olive, lime, and jade.

A flip of the calendar page or season's first frost.
Security and fate change as quickly as that.

by Margaret Bednar, September, 29, 2014

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Open Link Monday"

and Magpie Tales #239 where the image prompt is below.  I pondered the "security" offered beneath grand old trees and the change from summer to fall …

Autumn in Madeira by Jacek Yerka used with Magpie Tales #239