Autumn leaves
I haven't posted here in forever, but it seems a good time to do so. Hope your year is turning well, and your hearth is warm.
--*C
-------
Autumn’s days descending, into the deepening season,
sylvan divinities shrugingly concede the succeeding nights, breathe in
set themselves afire, living immolations blazing riotous,
wantonly indecorous moments, hues and shades
flaming brightly into nothingness,
last dance before the frozen cold
Few rare hours offer still their proudly ample apple bosoms
luscious with thick and heavy summer sweetness,
and belie the shadowed seasoning, the leaves,
falling short-timers, telling their declining tales
Old, familiar scents of triumphs and bittersweets,
long-ago memories and mist-wettened melancholies,
mingled harvest of what was, might have beens,
and no, it’s too late now
let it go, let it go, until Spring, at least.
or maybe, forever.
Thickening ground-blankets woven of darkening autumn colors
already hold the hint of humus, their destiny
to decay, dripping sweet corrupting drops down into the Puritan gravel beneath,
now grudgingly opening, welcoming, in new years to come
teeming swarming tiny carnal lives
and sneaky sensuous mosses,
then the pushy willful sprouts
who will, in their time, grow to proud trees,
with all their proud leaves,
and fall in their turn
If you listen, you can hear each leaf singing as she tumbles
from lofty sky-homes, back to humble earth.
“Alas, alas,” they cry
or sometimes, instead: “Whee!” And, too,
“See you next year,
and thanks for the memories,
for the water and the sun
And it’s nice that you noticed us.
Maybe you won’t recall this moment,
this one single life, as it falls --
probably not, one among so many
But perhaps, now or later,
you will remember the earth beneath your feet,
full of old fallen leaves,
of once upon a times and might have beens and nevermores, and
wait ‘till next years.
So you might want to enjoy it
while you’re here,
while you can
and we’ll share our stories with you, friend
Soon, always soon.
Light yourself on fire and leap, fearless,
or fade to brown and shrivel away
Either way,
you’ll be coming home.
We’ll gather up your tales,
and you will pass your torch
to those who follow after
Leaves fall, soil grows richer,
stories grow longer, and sometimes wiser
So each year, around this time,
is a good time to listen, and remember
Autumn leaves
--*C
-------
Autumn’s days descending, into the deepening season,
sylvan divinities shrugingly concede the succeeding nights, breathe in
set themselves afire, living immolations blazing riotous,
wantonly indecorous moments, hues and shades
flaming brightly into nothingness,
last dance before the frozen cold
Few rare hours offer still their proudly ample apple bosoms
luscious with thick and heavy summer sweetness,
and belie the shadowed seasoning, the leaves,
falling short-timers, telling their declining tales
Old, familiar scents of triumphs and bittersweets,
long-ago memories and mist-wettened melancholies,
mingled harvest of what was, might have beens,
and no, it’s too late now
let it go, let it go, until Spring, at least.
or maybe, forever.
Thickening ground-blankets woven of darkening autumn colors
already hold the hint of humus, their destiny
to decay, dripping sweet corrupting drops down into the Puritan gravel beneath,
now grudgingly opening, welcoming, in new years to come
teeming swarming tiny carnal lives
and sneaky sensuous mosses,
then the pushy willful sprouts
who will, in their time, grow to proud trees,
with all their proud leaves,
and fall in their turn
If you listen, you can hear each leaf singing as she tumbles
from lofty sky-homes, back to humble earth.
“Alas, alas,” they cry
or sometimes, instead: “Whee!” And, too,
“See you next year,
and thanks for the memories,
for the water and the sun
And it’s nice that you noticed us.
Maybe you won’t recall this moment,
this one single life, as it falls --
probably not, one among so many
But perhaps, now or later,
you will remember the earth beneath your feet,
full of old fallen leaves,
of once upon a times and might have beens and nevermores, and
wait ‘till next years.
So you might want to enjoy it
while you’re here,
while you can
and we’ll share our stories with you, friend
Soon, always soon.
Light yourself on fire and leap, fearless,
or fade to brown and shrivel away
Either way,
you’ll be coming home.
We’ll gather up your tales,
and you will pass your torch
to those who follow after
Leaves fall, soil grows richer,
stories grow longer, and sometimes wiser
So each year, around this time,
is a good time to listen, and remember
Autumn leaves