The straight line of our intent
begins to meet the season’s curve —
bracken fern starting to turn,
and trees along the river

Garden plants have given up,
the coming rain too late,
other factors we can’t see
informing them
their time of growth is over

No longer can we count on
stretches of long, sunny days —
they shorten, and the rains
begin to take their place

We will bend, because we have to,
we will find a way,
our intent will weave itself in,
for the circle belongs to us, too.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 8, 2019