Bright hills are stripped of crimson hue
The stark skeletal limb resides
Where daylight, sharp with frozen dew
Transforms dull fields to silver tides
And frosty, jagged petals flow
In umber streams, upon the grass
As from the limb, like russet snow
Unwary flakes of autumn pass
The flower garden, stripped of charm
Has sown its glory in the earth
Until the sun begins to warm
The grave where lies its dormant mirth
The tune of meadow-lark and finch
Becomes the blue-jay’s raucous cry
As autumn’s shoulder, inch by inch
Forces earth’s solemn lullaby
The wind, like heaven’s giant broom
Sweeps gallantly across the yard
As leaves like scattered children run
Ahead of bristles pushing hard
Where once they whispered to the moon
They chatter softly at my feet
I pause and listen to the tune
Of autumn’s farewell, bittersweet
Janet
Yes, those are 'the glasses;)
referring to a few comments...
Autumn's farewell is bittersweet indeed. I had thought we had lost all color here, but I was pleasantly surprised when I noted some trees with brilliant red today, but it will not be long.
ReplyDeleteHi Mary, I think most of the color left here is a tired yellowy-greeny-brown:(( UNLESS I wear the sunglasses I bought a little wile ago. It's the best Two dollars I've ever spent...I was marveling at the beauty, while driving home, (the day i bought them) and none of my kids seemed very excited, then I lifted my glasses and realized something. Life IS sweeter through rose-colored glasses:)These are an amber-gold actually and intensify every color of nature somehow. This afternoon on my way home with my son I was commenting on the beautiful sky and he says, Mom, can i have your glasses for a sec?...he puts them on 'yup, it's the glasses'...
ReplyDeleteDo you live in Wisconsin? My hubby drives to Green Bay almost every week!
Janet ~ the last verse is my favorite ~ I like how you made the leaves in to child-like beings, so sweet :) Loved reading your rose-colored glasses comment :) I may have to invest in a pair of those myself!
ReplyDeleteIt came to me as I looked out and saw the wind hurrying them along...later I thought I should have perhaps tried to liken the wind to a chiding mother...Megan, I guess this is why I write so many poems about the same thing! There is no way to use up every idea in one poem. I began another poem entitled These Halls...about Autumn, but I deleted it and told myself...ENOUGH ALREADY! now I am restless, those 'halls, taunting me, calling me, perhaps to write after all.
ReplyDeleteYour extended metaphor starting on line three and continuing to the end of line six is fabulous, and then you follow it up with the simile in lines seven in eight. Poetry at its finest. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
ReplyDeleteMike, words like this from a writer like you truly warms my heart. Thank-you:)
ReplyDelete