Butternut Sun

Hello Friday, Hello Poets,

I am back from a wonderful conference of School Librarians. We met in Williamsburg, one of my favorite places to be in autumn.

Lit by a butternut sun. Photo by Linda Mitchell 2024

Haibun and Aubade

At the end of our conference we heard that route 64 was shut down. There would be no happy winding east and north toward home for for a couple of hours. My friend bought a book of Williamsburg Ghost Stories and we strolled from asphalt to cobblestones of the old capitol. 

Though a November day, it was warm for walking. The autumn sun down sliding and friendly as I huh-ed! to readings of ghost sightings and hauntings in the taverns and houses of Duke of Gloucester Street. 

Shops began closing for the day. A milliner took in ribboned bergeres from an outside display, The fife and drum corps lined up to play taps. Shadows stretched into long stockings. 

At the backdoor of a blacksmith I watched a modern family listen to the smithy holding a red hot piece of iron with his tongs on the anvil. A smith assistant listened too. Was she taking a fresh breath of air? Cleaning tools? She glowed beside a window open to eighteenth century life caught by my iphone as I traveled time.

butternut evening
just thirty in november

save up for winter

Linda Mitchell--draft

My dear World...I worry for you. There's a new poem on World's padlet.

Thank you poet and poem curator extraordinaire, Karen Edminsten, for hosting our round up this week.