Fall’s a Mystery
(Or I’ve Been Watching
Too Much Crime TV)
Blustery winds bring seasonal mysteries, like
why once supple flowers turn crispy and still,
why leaves lose color and fall dead away,
why summer’s loud bugs turn eerily quiet,
and why some people fade when the sun disappears.
If I were a detective, I’d capture the flowers
and confine them indoors for, say, 90 days,
after which, if warm, they’d be returned outdoors.
I’d turn the leaves over to the homicide folks
and hope an autopsy could reveal why
once green and pliant, they’re now crunchy and brown;
I’d send my partner on a seasonal stakeout
along with a sensitized listening device
to determine if crickets have Winter sounds;
And for the people, if they’d consider a change,
I’d see them moved to a sunnier place,
and as their sponsor, of course I’d move, too.