Oh autumn, when the geese head south
and sea lions play amid the kelp,
when sunsets paint their grey-red feast
against the ocean’s deepening.
Season of mists and mellow mirth
when leaves fall lazily to earth,
finding rest in soil that’s long been home
since earth was love and love was loam.
Twenty long thousand years ago
this land was ice-scraped bare,
stripped to the rock, snow buried,
covered deep with silence.
Then oceans warmed and from afar
came tiny seeds from distant plants
blown by wind or dropped by dung,
minuscule prophets of a land that soon would
burst into a glorious world of colour,
fragrance exploding into flower,
filling the earth with cedars, oaks,
and forests wrapped in mist-rich cloaks
where bears and eagles gorge down deep
on flesh of salmon, winter’s meat,
and in the spring fawn lilies sing
the beauty of the land.
Such food, that native clans
should feast so well and sleep so fine,
herring, halibut, blueberries, clams,
salmon, cranberries, oolichan.
Such grace that land so fertile from the leaves
and drowsy slumbers of ten thousand rotting summers
should recompose itself into a world so gay
that Pumpkin and Squash might hold their wedding day
down aisles packed tight with beets and carrots
fresh greens throwing kisses at their feet,
broccoli sounding the organ’s praise
while leeks sing forth their chorus.
“All hail to this union!” the onions cry
while the mangetout bridespeas giggle delight,
“All hail to this union in Gaia’s church,
who answers for this pair?”
“We do!” a human couple calls,
young urban farmers from the city’s core
where wasteland that once grew shattered glass
now blooms with beets and spinach.
“We do!” they cry as with delight
five thousand sweetcorn dance into sight,
ten thousand lettuces on their arms,
swaying seductive charms.
“We do!” the great assembly calls
as worms twirl round about,
“We announce thee wed!” the onions shout,
and Squash into Pumpkin’s arms she falls.
That night the heavens did open wide
as fruits and vegetables everywhere
made love
with human farmers.
Many the kisses and deep laid thrills
as tendrils wrapped and wombs were filled,
many the eyes that gazed and loved
as Nature found her fortune.
So grow now, dance, and take delight
on Pumpkin and Squash’s wedding night.
Their nuptual bliss awaits our light
to re-empower Nature.
Guy Dauncey
The Practical Utopian 