Sepia Season

october rain

Dull pewter skies,
sodden with autumn rain,
reflect tarnished silver
in the cove.

The landscape is the color of old photographs,
faded and worn from the years
of handling
and recollection.

Fields will soon be plowed under.
This season, this year,
will be relegated to memory-
our lives captured in faded pictures.

Heavy with rain,
the cedar boughs bow to the north wind-
their resinous pale berries
the color of coming frost.

My Husbands Old Nightshirt

Spider silk soft
Breath light
Fabric baring threads
Of caress and comfort
Colors not
But night and light
Black white none
Easy to have
Kept as sleep
In the heart
Nodding to waking
Shed to skin
At the dawning

*** not the most romantic of titles for a cubist love poem – smiles – a little something for the dVerse prompt

The Beginning of the Fall

Autumn on the lake

I sweep autumn leaves from the porch
and listen to the crows caw
from across the dry meadow,
the only birds still in residence.

The trees are empty.

The birds have abandoned me.
Are there runes scraped into the bark of the cedar,
just outside the window?
‘Beware all life is fleeting, flee!’
Soon the mirrors will be covered
and voices hushed
in winters sorrow.

I miss their songs.

I miss feeling their presence-
the feathers left in my path
as if angels were near,
watching and protecting.
But the trees are now deserted-
all the winged creatures
have left.
Leaving me
alone to keep vigil
in the beginning of the fall.

The Physics of Hummingbirds

Hummingbirds 1

What vast endurance
must these tiny creatures brave-
such grace
and nimbleness in flight.
Aerial dancers, swift and light,
embellished gems
of emerald and rubies in their wings-
crucial feathers, dignified
by alloyed gold and steel.
How do these trembling hearts
force fire
into wing and bone,
hollow and mercurial?
Enhanced essence of air
streamed from nectar of flowers
elegance equaling
the energy expended.
What formulae of geometry and physics
can prove these creatures?
What wing,
what heart,
what soul?

*** Our hummingbirds, that have graced our yard with their presence all spring and summer, are leaving for their winter homes in Central America. I took one feeder down today to wash and store for the arrival of next Aprils guests. The other 2 feeders will stay up for a few more weeks. I always like to leave at least one feeder out- just in case there is a slow poke heading south that needs a rest and a little snack for the trip.

Sing to Me the Autumns Song

bradford-inn.jpg

Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.

The season quietly steals away
taking summer’s sun and heat.
Only to return with bluer skies-
rich autumn’s tapestry to greet.

Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.

Her colors rich in tint and hue
thru the deep woodlands are strewn.
Leaves of russet, pumpkin, and gold,
dance gaily to the north winds tune.

Don’t sing to me of winter days,
the summer has yet gone.
More lovely and sublime the fall-
sing to me the autumns song.