The Book of Questions, by Pablo Neruda, contains poems made up entirely of questions. I’ve pulled out one of these for today’s writing prompt:
Is it true that autumn seems to wait for something to happen?
Write a poem, essay, story, memory, freewrite, description…whatever this question evokes in you.
I’d love to see your creations in the comments if you feel like sharing!
Strangling My Muse 
Autumn is the overlooked middle child in the family of seasons. She lies waiting in the shadow of wise older brother Winter, and is forever overlooked for younger sisters Spring and Summer.
Autumn awkwardly waits for the transition from tropical breezes to arctic winds to be complete. Always stuck inthe middle, she feels confused, incomplete, not at rest.
In such a rush for her transformation to conclude, she does not stop to see her own magic, her energy, her beauty. Flushed cheeks from a warm sun and cool breeze, Autumn should look at the present and find joy.
🙂
This is lovely, JT! Thanks so much for sharing your writing here!
~Sandy
Pablo:
My Autumn is different. She speeds past me, daring me to keep up, but knowing I’ll lose the race. I won’t go leaf gazing until after the blazing colors have peaked. I won’t get to the pumpkin patch until they’re all picked over and I’ll have to choose a tall, misshapen rectangular pumpkin with one flat side I’ll keep to the wall. And a broken stem. My Autumn will laugh and call Winter over to mock me. Pathetically, I still love Autumn but always feel I’ve missed its embrace. And I dread Winter.
Signed,
Trying Hard to Enjoy Sweater Weather Before It’s Too Late
Wonderful and real, as always Kablooey! Thanks for sharing this! (And I hope you have some moments to enjoy sweater weather this year…)
~Sandy