The harshness of your breath has quieted
And settled in hoarfrost.
Your tears have blazed and fallen
Among leaves.
Your clutched hands have grown black wings
And whirled into my shadow.
But I have grown thorns of light
Defending my Evergreen skin
Against the black stains of your fire.
Only the smoke in the folds of your secrets
Refuge through me like left-behind migratory birds
Searching desperately for shelter.
If Summer is a giggling girl
Autumn is a Grandmother’s smile.
The smell of fallen lilacs,
A dress of golden linen draped around clouds.
She listens to your silence
With dewy hands pulling away swirls of grey
To show you life walking by
Barefooted on new snow.
The Autumn night deepens against the dark.
Like a featherless wingspan without roots
It recognizes no borders.
And people start dreaming of Angels
Carrying Light into the world.
There is something about wandering around cobbled street surrounded by russet leaves and trees with amber crowns leaning against brightly lit shop windows and cozy white painted cafes.
There is something about the dim orange autumnal light making tan-less faces shine beautiful, and the northern wind whipping up rose cream to brush on people’s cheeks.
There is something about little wooden homed cafes in the autumn rain with people in them drinking hot chocolate and smiling while wet drops cover the windows with diamonds.
There is something about children and puppies tossing around leaves and dancing in muddy puddles.
There is something about listening to the sea while sitting on a bench in a park eating Cinnamon buns with cold stiff hands.
There is something about autumn in the city…especially in the north where the sun blazes so briefly in the summer, yet so strong into the night itself. There is something about the nip in the air on those first days of October, waking us up and inviting us in, celebrating the natural rawness of sea and sky and land…
Nature’s youth has surrendered
To sweeps of tears through Evergreens
With irrevocable immortality shielded
By glass-walls of sea and sky.
Left behind is the sound of loneliness
Swaying on Fall-eaten branches
In night-like afternoons.
Evenings of brass aging,
Too soon, into a shadow world
Of naked silhouettes reaching,
Longingly, for your sunny thoughts.
Summer days have long since paled,
Autumn songs are sounding.
The sea, the woods, the hills, the trees
All awaiting the season’s twilight.
Birds journeying far on the horizon,
Only Evergreens are left shining.
Grief, like the bee’s transparent wings
Sheds its cloaking with the sun’s
Goodbying.
The world leaves traces
In me:
The silhouette of a bird
Touching my blue-black reflection;
A winged cross, a ghost adrift
Towards the ochre light
Shouldering
Heaven’s border.
