These Autumn Days


autumn

…look, you…put those questions aside…

These autumn days,
have lost their social graces.
One minute, flamboyant,
splashed out in amber light,
the next, they’re curled
under a quilt of somber grey;
they can’t bear to face themselves
or drag their bones
through the week.

Grasses fluff themselves up
as best they can,
under the weight of
heavy Mondays,
denser Tuesdays,
and mountainous Wednesdays
from late September to
past Remembrance.
Maples and poplars
burdened by longing,
send their leaves
in search of brighter times.
Dressed like butterflies,
in yellow, orange and brown
they launch into flight
but drift helpless to the ground.

Yet, these wistful days
dare to lay themselves out before you
face up, arms open,
backs crackling and pained against
a bed of fallen leaves
as their pigment
gently drains away.
Resigned, they
offer up their best funeral smile,
make it stretch a weekend
if they’re lucky,
before they heave a collective sigh
that you mistake for the wind.

But come, say
the few optimistic October hours,
look what we’ve dragged out for you;
these soggy sheets
and layers of rot
may seem
more endings than beginnings,
but kneel with us,
crouch and peer into
the gravel bottoms
of fast flowing streams
where sliver salmon
prepare for their afterlife
and you will have the answers
we’ve saved for you.

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This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Life, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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