Southern Alberta in the Fall

The sun’s blessing-rays spread across the fields,
Melting the tenderfoot snowflakes of the morn
Canola, wheat, corn, sugarbeet, all the season’s yields,
Are gathered in ere the scratch of winter’s thorn.

Benedictive blue skies stretch for many a mile
Encompassing grit-gravel roads and prairies wild.
Cropped fields bordered by wire fence and stile,
Scarecrow waving like an abandoned child.

Chinooks warm the flatlands with their gusty breath,
Blowing the fallow fingers of skeletal trees,
Sap runs cold in a quiet kind of death,
Waiting for the spring, and resting in peace.