Breaking news:  The planets are in alignment; the Druids have returned to Stonehenge; the Great Pyramids are glowing with electricity; the Library of Atlantis has been found in a huge empty chamber beneath the feet of the Sphinx; and I am on Facebook.  That's right.  Facebook.  My work can be found on Facebook at Dean Robbins' Poetry.  Oh, and by the way, all that other end of the world stuff isn't really happening.  I mean, as far as I know.
     The Autumnal Equinox arrives Sunday at 4:44 pm.  Most of us have already accepted the change of seasons as we've noticed the sun now sets a tad earlier every evening.  And, of course, we've just enjoyed the full Harvest Moon.  Nothing to do now but embrace it and hope the Farmer's Almanac is wrong.
     Today's piece originated when I realized in October 2012 that I had once again fallen into the same routine that develops this time of year.  I'm certain it will sound familiar to many of you.

Routine

 

This is Autumn never discussed:

what little daylight remains between

coming home and sunset fades in

soporific stupor as long hour

legs fold into corner chairs and eyes

slip below television screen

horizons until eight thirty is

midnight - just as dark, just as heavy,

and going to bed is redundant.



 

 



      I appreciate the beauty and elegance of flowers, having a particular fondness for yellow roses and daisies of any type, followed closely by sunflowers.  My mother's favorite flower has always been the yellow rose, and I'm certain she deserves the credit for the place it holds in my heart.  Every time I see a yellow rose I think of her.  My affection for daisies comes from an old song I first heard as a child and have kept with me for all these years - A Daisy A Day by Jud Strunk.  Yes, that's right.  Jud Strunk.  It's a very catchy, poignant song.  Look it up and listen to the words.  Sunflowers?  No special reason.  I simply think they are curiously wonderful.
     Obviously, today I'm sharing flower poems.  Two, to be exact.  I've already given you my poem on roses (Annual).  Therefore, the first verse is about a cluster of Brown-eyed Susans which grow every summer just outside the gate to my yard.  The second is a haiku that originated on a September morning trip to Mansfield in 2010.   I have yet to think of a title for it.

Greeting

 

Susan waits along the gate,

brown eyes watching day to day,

ready for her chance to say,

"Welcome!  You've been missed of late,

as I've been too long away."

 

 

(Haiku)

 

Lining north bound roads,

fields of sunflowers stretch

awake at sunrise.


Note:  My mistake.  I realize after checking that I have not shared my rose poem (Annual).  I will rectify that in the future.