Midwest autumns (only time
we use that word) rife with symbols
of change; shifting seasons, habits
emblematic meanings in
beginnings, ends

Rare fall day, not-too-crisp air,
sunshine, potential
lug your tub up from basement
gray vessel, packed tightly, stashed
since April, flannel shirts of plaid
various arrays of colors

The tub, hauled to backyard
along with cloth bag of wooden clips,
solemnity; hang each of those shirts
neat, colorful rows on shiny ropes

We of Midwestern ilk secure
reverence with those clothespins
arriving fall unfurled, sleeved flags
waving in cool breeze, soaking in sweet
freshness, fall air permeating cotton
sharp simplicity; flannel shirts on the line

Personal semaphores of woods, prairie
signaling simply…ahh, this is autumn!


– Mark L. Lucker
(C) 2026