Sunday, October 6, 2013

Some Autumn Poems

At the Year's Elbow

September smells in the air
like school,
like the first awareness
of freedom's limits,
of the inevitable
Still green leaves
elegant with lacy
bug eaten holes,
rustle in the
still warm sun.
A bug runs up your arm
and changes directions
at September,
at your elbow,
the year's elbow.

A slight body language of wind,
a gesture of paling light says
you are here
at the year's elbow.
In the morning,
the children
will go back to school.
In the evening,
the light will move away
with satchels
of flowers.

At Cape May

At the bird sanctuary
in mid-September, a million silver
tree swallows
wallow and swoop in the air,
taking great swallows of air,
folding up on the tall stalks
of marsh weeds
like shining Christmas ornaments.
As one,
they flash like a flag
of silver and slate blue
against the turbulent blue sky,
unfurling south.

October in Emmitsburg

Sun backlights the gold trees.
Suddenly they jump up,
out of the dark
at the end of daylight savings time.
Moon rides the sky,
hovers over the mountain.

It’s inner trickery
to love the fall.


No comments: