Pat Jones

Sunday New York Times

by T. S. Davis

We picked the last tomatoes yesterday,
anticipating frost which did not show.
But clearly autumn gusts have come to stay —
a presage of what winter will bestow.
Today we pulled the plants and stored the pots —
you sprayed the patio, I joked and teased —
and settled down with bagels cream and lox
and Sunday New York Times to spread and read.
A melancholy Piazzolla tune
was playing as you read the news to me.
Despite my effort, all that I impugn
came crashing through me unaccountably.
An edgy hint of peril permeates the autumn air
and never fails to prick an eerie mad despair.

T. S. Davis is the author of Sun + Moon Rendezvous and Criminal Thawts, former producer of the Seattle Poetry Slam, and 2007 recipient of the Ethel Fortner Writer and Community Award.  His most recent publication was a poem and essay in Rattle. He lives in Asheville, NC.