Fall, in Minnesota
It deceives us,
this warm, buttery air,
this displaced blaze of summer.
How is it, I wonder,
that the sumac knows to riot in red,
that the grasses put on their coppery sheaths
and the trees sigh into gold?
When was the last time
the annuals struggled into October,
dull and leggy, but blooming
amid the spilled and curling leaves?
I consider all of this -
the beginnings of autumn,
beauty's finger everywhere.
This is why I live here,
this is why I live.
(c) Copyright 2000. The Christian Science Publishing Society