September 30 in Yellow

I should've spent the day on my front porch
sunny and warm
full Indian Summer

In line for the viewing at the funeral home in town
a couple waiting to pay their respects discuss where the most colorful drives would be
oh no, the hills would be better
that canyon is full of oak, ash turn yellow, oak just turn brown

I know, but if that ash bore comes through here, we're done
and here we planted all ash to avoid that elm disease

The maples aren't red yet and the elms are still green, but we've never seen such a yellow September
even the stupid hackberry seems to have color, instead of just being it's typical khaki

The fields have been stripped bare,
like unmade beds
their quilts of corn and oats and soybeans stored in some attic or perhaps piled on the floor in the laundry room
only a few tattered old afghans remain on the plain, beige mattresses
those are the few acres of deep green alfalfa, fringed with fluffy tufts of some exploded weeds- like the stuffing pulled out of the mattress-
I think that some of it must be pussy-willow