I don’t know about you, but summer sure went by quickly for me. It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that we arrived in Provence to fill the pool and plant some flowers and vegetables. Now I am pulling up spent tomato plants and feeling that first faint chill in the air.

  

  I probably never would have discovered poetry if it hadn’t been for a few literature classes that I took in college, but I found that I do love it. I don’t read it alot but here is one I saw in the interesting book by Patricia Atkinson called The Ripening Sun about her life in France.

Autumn

by James Tomson

 

I solitary court

The inspiring breeze, and meditate the book

Of Nature, ever open, aiming thence

Warm from the heart to learn the moral song

And, as I steal along the sunny wall,

Where autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep,

My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought-

Presents the downy peach, the shining plum

With a fine bluish mist of animals

Clouded, the ruddy nectarine, and dark

Beneath his ample leaf the luscious fig,

The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots,

Hangs out her clusters glowing to the south,

And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky.