Wild and unruly it is,
an untamed profusion
of blackhaw and arrowwood,
winterberry and shrubby dogwoods
weave a tangle
of hiding places,
an autumnal banquet
for the wild ones.
Wild perennials wander here.
Wingstem grows where it will
and goldenrod jockeys
with the asters,
nectar and pollen in yellows, pinks and purples,
swaying with the movement
of bees and beetles feeding.
As swallowtails flock to mistflowers,
and bluebirds to ripened crabapples,
goldfinches echo
from sunflowers planted by chipmunks,
and the pokeweed’s purpled berries
invite catbirds to dine,
and the thrashers,
and thrushes.
Autumn’s palette splashes
across the hedgerow
in glad abandon,
welcoming everyone,
welcoming all.
—
Ann Bodling’s poems reflect her close relationship with the natural world. She is a naturalist, a gardener, wife, mother, and grandmother. She has worked most of her adult life in gardens and on farms and lives in rural central-Pennsylvania with her husband, three goats, and four hens.
