September 22, 2026
Apologies to all. I have been absent too long from this blog and from my poetry. For the past two years, I’ve been working on a historical novel and am now “shopping” it, trying to engage agents who I’m beginning to feel are as make-believe as faeries. I will be posting more about that adventure later.
For now, we mark the first day of autumn as one season slips into the next in a world that seems ever-changing. How well are we coping with change? What keeps us grounded? And what are we waiting for?
Hold onto hope and keep creating!
Autumn blessings,
Rosemary
At the Turning
It is the turning season
when oaks and hickories
rising skyward
flutter leaves
green and stubborn
while maples and dogwoods
slip on red, russet, and gold
and the last of the hummingbirds
sip from the nectar
and one by one
the last of the fireflies
flit by the half-opened window
and the last of the sunflowers
brilliant and bright
fade like stars
in a cloudy night
and squirrels prance about
cheeks bulging with nuts
the daily temperatures
rising and dropping
like a child’s yoyo.
Today, rain splatters
the still lush pasture
before its grasses turn
to dun bales of hay
cropping up on porches
each moment of daylight
sliding sooner into the shadows
at the turning point
until the first frost falls
proclaiming that change is
and was and will be
as we turn
with open hands
to watch.
(c) Rosemary McMahan
Picture credit: Rosemary McMahan
