Banjo pickin'
and mandolin twang,
guitars and fiddles
makin' Tennessee sound,
amid the oil lanterns and
cast iron meals all 'round,
the neighborhood gathers
for bluegrass fall festival,
full moon hanging over
misty fog and farmland,
folk songs and flannel
color the night while
with my wife I dance
in twist and twirl,
to the left and the right;
pickers pickin' strings
welcome all the fall things,
and we feel peace in the air
under season's first moon,
knowing so much is on
the rise, so much new that
will be upon us oh so soon.
YOU ARE READING
Autumn Moods
PoetryPumpkin spice, apple ciders and campfires on chilly nights -- poetry and prose for the fall season.
