for Back-to-School time

Kick through the growing drifts of fallen 
leaves to separate the red from the yellow. 
How many of each?

If two clouds are drifting in different directions, 
which one will get there first? Multiply the time 
of day by the speed of the wind for an accurate map. 
How many spinning weathervanes know the answer? 

elementary, those
pesky word problems
that haunt me still

Tally the clouds at sunset when they congregate on 
the horizon to sink into coral, purple, and finally dark 
smudges against the night sky.

How many drooping sunflowers in that farmer’s field 
are going to seed under infinite stars?

once again I fail
to accurately count the beans
in a large glass jar

Months of pandemic days have melted into lonely nights. 
What melted them? Will they fall off the edge of the Earth? 

And so we go on . . . but when and where?

distant whistles
of a freight train ride 
the autumn wind

At dusk I drive through wilting  
fields of sunflowers, their heads 
nodding toward the dirt, faces 
gone to seed, petals dropping.

These plants are annuals, 
live on only through their progeny,
seeds that germinate into light.

Tonight is Halloween, All-Hallows Eve.
Hollowed pumpkins grin from dark
porches, candles guttering within.         

Years ago I ghosted the streets, greedy 
for candy, going house to house, fearing 
the door I dared not rap on, running 
breathless to the next.

Heavy rain is forecast— thunderstorms
late afternoon along with gusty winds 
tonight as a cold front roars through. 

Dying sunflowers will be finished off,
their spongy stalks collapsing while 
spirits ride the gusts, faces flickering 
as lightning strikes the earth 
and rises up again.

And I will answer the door to children
of all ages, holding out their sacks
for promises of sweetness, a gleaning
they will carry home to dump out 
on the table and savor while they can.