Thursday, October 8, 2015

Hark to October's Song





Hark, while the busy flower flings its petal to the tree
And every hill of former green dons dazzling filigree
The winnowing of days fills skies with roseate and teal
The target of thought’s dream-some sighs lies somber and surreal


Hark, heaven lends suggestions of what waits beyond this clod
Of four-season investments scribbled on parchments of sod
Where sunlight splays its circle of gold high atop the earth
And mankind lays his winsome ways within its waning girth

Hark, while a seraphim of frond and limb unfurls its song
And all along the boulevard scuttles a scattered throng
Of quarter-notes and amber-threaded tatters from a coat
That flaunted fearless flowers and hours fond and remote



Hark, lest in our hasting we forfeit life’s finest things
For bits of boorish tasting and want’s temperamental strings
Where now the colored flame of dirt laughs like a clapping child
Before the taming wind that howls through bones and wooded wild

© Janet Martin

Sometimes one simply needs to get out there and enjoy it, or fall falls away like a leaf on the wind, untouched.


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