Fall Is a Flame That Flickers...

I yielded to temptation today

and went for a mid-afternoon ramble...

Gold tallow drips from poplar tapers etched against blue skies 

Always autumn’s Artist authors awe with age-old surprise 

The belfry of green summer has surrendered to the toll 

Of Autumn’s golden glockenspiel spell-binding (or unwinding) heart and soul 

Yield to temptation for in autumn it is not a sin 

Walk slower, linger longer in nature’s veldt, vapour-thin 

And be beguiled by beauty running wild and unrestrained 

Do not a bystander in earth’s leaf-ballad unchained 

The hour of the flower, with each frost grows more fragile 

Sometimes a chore must wait while we explore fall’s favored isle 

What tender torture to be torn between two tugging loves 

The one is a house nice and clean, smelling of spice and cloves 

And other lovely oven-things that bring smiles of delight 

(for mother’s apron strings are wound 'round hearty appetite😉) 

But oh, the other, sweet unrivaled best of ecstasies 

…a ramble through the unraveling tapestry of trees 

Each fall I vow that I will be braver in love’s farewell 

Grief is the price that love must pay; ah, let me pay it well 

So I will let love’s hunger feast upon tossed red and gold 

Where humble wonder is increased as we pause to behold 

Ah, love is far too lonely if we only mourn ‘has-bin’ 

Oh look, time disappears like bean and corn fields gathered in 

Where stubble gleams, silver in frost and golden in the sun 

The bubble of a season wafts, then pops and it is gone 

Today may be the best day left to drink in what remains 

For though we drink and drink not one droplet of colour drains

Till weightless as the glimmer of whisper-borne thistle-silk 

The coppice-torch is dimmed then snuffed by Time’s ethereal ilk 

Goodness and mercy overflow where past and future wed 

To unfold a grand garden full of roses overhead 

Then wonder without wish before cold gales cut to the quick 

Fall is a flame that flickers on yon woodland’s waning wick 

© Janet Martin

The mop and bucket waited just fine till I got back 😀

Baking got done before the ramble...

because well, read the poem and you will see😃