Sharon Thayer Larsen

Autumn rests,
breathing with summer’s exhaustion.
The rains have come,
splashing this year’s drought.
Marigolds usually faded by now
blossom in gratitude.
Petunias are nudged awake.
They’ve stretched their red and white fingers
to the edge,
applauding survival.
The morning glory drinks relief
and climbs the yellow twine.
Impatiens fill their green leaves,
crowd the flower beds as if it were June.
The grass is resurrected
out of July’s sere brown,
perspires dew from new green strands.
We all stand
grateful.