Thursday, October 31, 2013

Ode on Autumn...a sonnet




Thou Harbinger of hearth and fireside
Who gifts thee with thy keen expenditure
Of scarlet prelude ere thy flame subsides
And falls; a sweeping, silent overture
And is thy kiss anointed thence with death
Or is it life that falls beneath the tree?
Thy seed returns to slumber in the earth
And man is powerless to set it free
Ah, who directs the geese that graze thy dome
Or bends thy orchard limb with gold and red?
Thou who rousest both dirge and passion’s poem
We touch thy face with eagerness and dread
And long to gather all our loved ones home
Whilst thou unleashest gardens overhead

Oh, strike the lute and raise thy banner high
Thou rebel-rouser with a lover’s kiss
Soon, soon the hour will force on us good-bye
And all that we can do is reminisce
So hold me nearer; let me feel thy tear
And taste the salt upon thy weathered cheek
Time does not cater to young love, my dear
Ah, listen to my thought; I cannot speak
But only feel the tremor on thy lips
Thou wanderer of dark and empty night
Philanderer of leaf; each moment drips
Until the hour is rife with farewell’s plight
Where you torment my mouth and fingertips
Thou troubadour of sorrow and delight

Thou Harbinger of both cradle and grave
Of flower stripped and hour weak with want
Even the boldest and the bravest brave
Cannot withstand a mighty minute’s taunt
And breath by breath, we sense and empathize
With thee; oh little laughter on the tree
The skin of things is such a thin disguise
Oh autumn; wilt thou linger tenderly
And spill thy honeyed candor on my day?
Then I will close my eyes; dance recklessly
Thy absence is too close for me to say
‘What is has been and what must be will be’
But I will revel in thy bluesy sway
For I can feel thy arms slipping from me


© Janet Martin





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