Showing posts with label leaves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leaves. Show all posts

Thursday, November 2, 2023

Sheer Veneer





Is the haste of a season sometimes almost more than you can bear too?

Tonight we lingered, sipping rich, black espresso in the crisp, gold dusk...




Time’s fabric is so sheer
Like mist-embellished gauze
That gathers up laughter and tears
Into the year that was

How easily it slips
Through fingertips and sighs
Like poetry of eyes and lips
Of hellos and goodbyes

Futile to linger where
The daylight disappears
Beneath a shawl of dark blue air
Un-weathered by the years

How swiftly seasons waft
Like silver thistledown
Above the quiet woodland doffed
Of spring-to-autumn’s crown

We reach but cannot trace
The thread that weaves the year
As season-stitches interlace
Time’s fabric remains sheer

Let's savor its sheer bliss
With love's sheer appetite 
And let the sheer wonder of This
Fill us with sheer delight

© Janet Martin











Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Symphony That Was...

 

Leaf-lamps clung to woodland wicks for dear life this year!
We didn't get a killer frost to hasten their departure!
But now suddenly earth feels like a hall emptied of crowds
after the show...
Dusk casts brief shadows on a strobe of golden stillness
before drawing the shades as darkness swaddles supper-hour






Victoria and I were drawn outdoors
 as November Dusk outdid itself
in symphonic splendor

Now that the limb is stripped of leaf
The woods and countryside
Seem stilled beneath a silver sheath
Of silence amplified

Now that leaf-lilt has been subdued
The landscape dons an air
Of reverence and solitude
Akin to solemn prayer

Now that the lamp of leaf is snuffed
Of luminescent glow
The halls of hills and field seem buffed
To showcase stars of snow 

Now that the leaves have fallen down
The hush after applause
Swaddles the countryside and town
With Symphony That Was

© Janet Martin






Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Taming The Blue...




Loosed leaf lilts,
Lands,
Lies upon
The yawn of Autumn Spent
Decking halls
Where flowered shawls
Have scattered
Their lament

Wild wind whirls
Twirls
Girlish
Ballerinas from the trees
Tucking soft
The sullen croft
Beneath a quilt
Of leaves

© Janet Martin





Saturday, November 3, 2018

Of Muted Musicale...




A riot of full color
Falls quiet in the woods
Beneath the dwindling arbor       
Of autumnal postludes

…as layer over layer
Leaf-lyrics lie, subdued
A prelude to the Player
Of Winter’s Interlude

© Janet Martin



Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Of Autumn Leaves...










The bud becomes the green of it
The green, a sheen of trees
But always at the end of it
…Autumn leaves

The heart becomes the hub of hope
Hope hungers, yet believes
It sees beyond the stricken slope
Where Autumn leaves

Oh, how we sing for joy of it
The color-world it weaves
Before the winnowing of it
In Autumn leaves

Futile to cling to strings that fray
Mouth smiles though spirit grieves
And thrills; the Painter spills His tray
Of Autumn leaves

Morning is a girl, slight of years
Time’s tide rushes, recedes
Where dusk is like a widow’s tears
Where Autumn bleeds

While we, like children press our faces
To frames filled with sheaves
And watch the wind-wand as it chases
Rain through leaves

As we hug hurt, stirred by the dirt
Where bud never retrieves
The tatters of a fallen shirt
Of Autumn leaves

© Janet Martin