Autumn, for as long as I can remember, constitutes my very favorite part of the year. Something special exists about the natural world during this particular season, and the romance of a soft and subtle ending of the riot of spring and summer entrances my imagination. I adore the the golden color of the sunshine, the turning of the leaves, the crispness of the air in the mornings and evenings, and the balancing of daytime and darkness. This is the cozy season, a settling of sorts that still contains vibrant energy and life. And did I mention the colors? Amazing....they speak to my heart like music. Here are some poems inspired by fall weather, colors, and feelings.
New Mexico Autumn
The subtle change in light,
to goldenrod from summer white
colors a New Mexico autumn.
Amber like the chamizal
that hugs the road,
the sun hangs lazy, low
and I am made cozy with time.
Aged Black-eyed Susans
welcome the warmth's kisses
before a violet twilight's embrace
which brings the Hunter's moon.
High mountain desert nights
with the stars a finger's touch away
love the smell of juniper smoke
singing in a midnight breeze.
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God rubbed the sky raw
leaving vermillion scars
to weep crimson drops onto the trees.
He burnt the edges of time to umber.
The ink of eons purpled then pinked
as golden stars began to wink
and sleep blindly on the horizon.
We walked upon silvered glass,
dipping our toes into water, mercury slick.
As kinetic bundles in our youth,
we seemed an affront to autumn's nature.
The Boats
Low, gray skies
pressure the darkened lake,
but abandon it to the fog
which grows legs
and creeps about wildly.
Boats sleep upon the shore
like summer ghosts, chilled and waiting--
hibernating against winter's imminent descent.
Like the boats, we rest apart
never touching any of the other.
Holding ourselves flat against the earth,
tightly to the tangible,
we hope to be swallowed,
to be welcomed beneath
the rocks and dirt.
Something so sad and forlorn about us,
pathetic and too proud
in both our disdain and our dependence.
We wait,
we rot,
and the fog dances
endlessly, frenetically on.
October Song
Purple skies darken into blue-black nights.
Chilled winds creep to blow away the sun.
Fall leaves glide down
scattering into scritch-scratch dancers
decorating faded, gray sidewalks.
Hustling to the beat of a stormy autumn breeze
they move frenetically until time exhausts them
and then they crumble into dust
like an October song.
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