Woman and Her Wayward Garden

Maples and oaks turn scarlet,
grapes ripen, walnuts litter the ground,
the empty fields of October
fold their hands and grow quiet,
but the sun sheds warmth of another season
and signs of spring haunt my garden.
As if drowsy roots woke in their beds
an iris blooms, the syringa yields
one white flower, a forsythia branch
shows yellow stars, a lilac swells its buds,
and I am left, a wayward gardener
with green thoughts on an autumn day.