Labor Day.

Funny word for the end.
Summer’s being given the bum’s rush.
All its lushness and abandon.
Broken rules
And splendor.
No more nonsense now.
Time to be adults again.
It’s what autumn does.
Leaving us
The poorer for it.
Safeguarding the child in us
Until May honors us
Once more.

 

Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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Tricia McCallum

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