It is Autumn
Dad, it is autumn here. The acequias are
lined with flame yellow cottonwoods and
the robin’s egg blue sky hangs over
the mountain. I breathe like you taught me.
It calls to me every autumn, so I hike
the mountain trail as far as I can, then
sit and breathe as you taught me. Birds
ready themselves for winter as does
the blue-tailed lizard sunning next to me.
Unafraid, he watches me just before a
deer tiptoes in and freezes. I move slowly
back down the alluvial plain and breathe
like you taught me. I follow the alluvial
plain to the river and revel in the smell
of roasting chile. It is autumn here.
Winter will come soon enough
and I breathe as you taught me.
Deborah Chappell has a BA in English and an MA in Creative Writing-Poetry. Her work has appeared in The Denver Quarterly.
How nice to hear your voice–for real–in this poem!