Please submit your poetic answer
Some call it Fall, or Fa’.
John Keats in ‘To Autumn’ called it Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
or it could be:
Time of the well-fed birds
My vine is fecundly fruiting. Rampant rain of the last few days has stopped me cutting down sweet heavy bunches of grapes. So birds — not socially distanced — are provided with their own tented feast. Maybe I’ll make a poem of that.
Now is your chance to produce your poem on this dramatic time of year — up to twenty lines long. Show us what you call it and why. I’ll select and publish any that has an apt autumnal moniker, well supported in a quality poem — no matter what form it takes.
Submission is free, and can be made by copying your poem and pasting it into the TITLE and TEXT boxes below.
If your poem has unusual formatting or uses italics — please tick the appropriate box.