By Kimiko Hahn
My favorite months reside in autumn
when the sunset is riddled with crows—
and my wishes swerve to fly…
when the sunset is riddled with crows—
and my wishes swerve to fly…
Explore Poems: Fall
Showing 1-20 of 201 poems
- By Danielle Shandiin Emersonare a reminder that ayóó nineez / extremely tall / ayóó nineez
& nizhoní / beautiful / nizhoní
things … - By Jessica RigneyIt's important she says that summer
Flatten itself against autumn. That it keep Insisting yes yes it'… - By Richard BrautiganI saw thousands of pumpkins last night
come floating in on the tide,
bumping up against the rocks and
rolling… - By Lindsay TurnerSome yellow sunflowers open down the street,
A ladder is open beneath someone’s apple tree.
Beneath … - By Karyna McGlynn& Memphis is out in Full Fang!
Skeletons skip down our pitted streets.
Whole families with matching hobo… - By Melvin DixonVermont leaves under glass,
Your hands working the frame.
Each piece of tree and trail
For an easy … - By Alvin FeinmanAnd the light, a wakened heyday of air
Tuned low and clear and wide,
A radiance now that would emblaze… - By David TaitA week of autumn snow, and today the sun,
the buildings fizzy with melting, the beggar
draping his sheets… - By Zakaria MohammedI await the end of August and the murder of September. I am here, tardy Autumn, waiting for you. I’ve…
- By Tim Tim Chengfrom the soil
We make our son. From the soil we make our son biscuits. From the soil we make our son… - By Khaty XiongFor a time the home was lost to me
my mouth forged in the night as I dreamed away
the barriers—stars… - By Connie Leungthese leaves are not from in here
they are nothing like the towering pine
that prickles crevices into… - By Nikki WallschlaegerMy fav event as harvest season approaches
is the rough seed that escaped the plots.
If there’s a cornfield… - By Annie FinchOur voices press
from us
and twine
around the year's
fermenting wine
Yellow fall roars
Over the ground… - By May Swenson1
A smudge for the horizon
that, on a clear day, shows
the hard edge of hills and
buildings on the … - By Barbara Crookerand the garden diminishes: cucumber leaves rumpled
and rusty, zucchini felled by borers, tomatoes sparse… - By Joseph MasseySober for once, for what—
for the words to budge.
We spent summer propped up
by each other's stuttering… - By John Brandifallen leavesthe abbot sweepsaround them
- By Sandra LimIt’s now within
an hour of sundown of a late
November afternoon.
It was a beautiful day,
the cold burned…