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The Morning After
Gary Harrison

The morning after
last night’s hard freeze
sunlight stirs the leaves
on Bill and Meg’s ash trees
spurring a golden flurry
gliding down, snow-like
gathering in drifts
over the walkway
on the curb

In our own front yard
four goldfinches
flit among tongued leaves
cling to tall sturdy stems
and feed on dried-up seedheads
where late bloomed brightly
a grand gallery
of Maximillian
sunflowers

What a welcome joy
this cold morning
in mid November
the neighborhood awash
in potent unmasked pigments
shades of vermillion—
amber, russet, rose—
punctuating these long nights
and short days

—
Gary Harrison is a retired professor of English at the University of New Mexico. His poems have appeared in Abandoned Mine and A Wind Blows Through Us, an anthology of poems written by writers living in New Mexico. He is currently working on a collection of poetry tentatively titled Trailogues—poems inspired by his hikes and backpacking trips in Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico.

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