Now in Autumn: Sonnet II
by Christine M. Jones

Now in Autumn: Sonnet II

by Christine M. Jones


On the clothesline, dries her flowered blouse.

And while a soft breeze blows, she makes

precise small piles by the house.

Her merry rake, no leaf escapes.


Now wears a berry fleece, wool hat,

ill-fitted, knitted long ago.

She fancies red birds bright & fat,

spreads toasted breadcrumbs in the grove.


Now greets the cedar tree by name,

the cat, the squirrel, with ma chère.

Her thoughts, unfazed, a late noon shade,

rest in the old oak rocking chair.


And when the twilight hours come,

she briefly hears Maintenant, her name.