First Day of Autumn

Thoughts on the coming season from Frank O'Hara.

Hunting Horns

How nice it is to take up
a familiar sound again
and draw new lines
from the traditional mouth
to the still-wet ear

They were always hearing you
go by as a vague menace
or the rustle of leaves
above the lovers where they lay
and the cold husband returning

A slightly military funeral
resembling the setting sun
with children running into it
they still hunt but they don't
blow the horns any more