winds of autumn

maybe the wind
always swirls but
only the leaves
of autumn make
me notice

the sound of autumn in November

This is the sound of autumn in November

trees newly bare

leaves piling up on the ground

perfect slolam courses

for gusty winds to play in

before they all get bullied to dust 

by power that doesn't know its own strength

autumn's pirate bounty

no pirates in sight

gold is scattered everywhere

fall beauty all mine

falling faster

Did you see the sky today, Brother Wolf?

Clouds on clouds grey on grey as trees bled out

leaves from fatal wounds of coming winter.

attack of the zombie leaves

autumn crawls deeper 

into buildings leaves 

ghost in on the cold 

breath of the wind seeking

the remembered warmth of 

summer not creepy at all

ghosts of autumn

leaves creep toward warmth

ghosts of autumn drifting in

not creepy at all

Uneasiness (October 30)

In the dark,

windy, cold,

     leaves

skitter unsettled

                       unsettling as they

                    scuttle

                beneath

                   the headlight beams

across the road giddy and

                  unpredictable like

                         kids

           on Halloween

   night.

before the snow

leaf shadows
and raccoon
paw prints
criss-cross
the sidewalk
until I can't
tell one from
the other

half-finished poem/prayer dissolving into laughter in July

May the sunlight on this perfect autumn day in July
burn out the rage and the ties that bind me to it.
May the wind in the leaves rustle with relief
and blow away all my resentment and anger.
May the semi-stagnant water of this channel
 . . .

Sometimes nature hands you beauty; other times it hands you the straight line, I guess.

Contemplation of moving (on)

Were I to leave, I would miss
this view of the trees and
the sounds of their leaves.

a summer memory - the storm 2013

The trees crushed by the storm
are slowly dying, leaves still
waving in the fitful wind, like 
the scraps of that road-killed
crane I saw on the roadside
waving helplessly as the traffic
passed it by.

January thaw

the wind

sweeps leaves

into neat piles

in corners

early October

Some of the falling leaves are slightly soft and supple to the touch.  They hardly crunch at all, still mostly alive.  Perhaps they choose to die young and make a prettier corpse?  I don't understand.  They'll all end up as dust in the wind anyway, so why not hang on 'til there's no life left?

Nothing gold really goes away

to Robert Frost

Nature's last green is gold
a thousand shades of red
orange purple and brown
ground up finely by wind
covered and hidden just
while winter wins until
Nature's first green comes back.
Nothing gold really goes away.

the first maple tree

The first maple tree has ignited
soon the others will bow
to peer pressure and immolate
themselves and cover the sidewalks
in confetti that will grind itself
 away in
the wind
into ashes
and dust
and winter
will come to hide it all away.

The view in winter

.
from my third floor apartment
the view will be lovely

stark and leafless

branches against
the skies in winter
.



Any comments/suggestions about line breaks?

What I could learn from the leaves (and the trees)

They know when 

to give up, how to 

let go.  If only they 

could tell me "like 

this" and "now."

Sweater Migration '09

Just finished the annual process of sweater migration.  It may seem a bit early to you, but I wish I'd been able to do it two weeks ago.  All my layers are resettled, heavier ones to the bottom of the cabinets where I can reach them more easily.  The thermometer will probably only go downhill from here. 

It rained today again, the dark, drizzly, low-slung-clouds-sulking rain, and it bothered me for a bit until I saw the leaves on the sidewalk and remembered that rain and cold October days are how leaf shadows are born.  I do love leaf shadows.  I'm willing to put up with a little rain for their sakes.


What do you love about early autumn?