Monday, November 9th, 2015


Fall is absolutely my favorite season and it drives me a little nuts. It carries so much beauty and exuberance and sadness all at the same time. It is the extraordinary burst of brilliance before the shutting down of Winter. ‘Poignant’ is the word I’m looking for.  Anyway, here is a poem by my friend, Liz Swenson, who refuses to be published but enriches me by sending me her poetry.  This captures the unease as the end of autumn approaches. Bittersweet.

sometimes within is a mere
of without.
an overcast morning in
late autumn when
curled and spent
leaves silently forfeit their 
and float haplessly to 
the ground.
to be blown by the next
vagrant breeze,
to be mulched by the 
final autumn mowing,
to reveal the bare thick
and thin
branches that have 
nourished and supported them. 
i, too, lack initiative,
self-direction and 
i linger,
i drift,
suspended between then
and now,
now and to be,
looking for the 
nourishing soul-food that 
will set me again in motion,
reaffix me to the perennial and 
branches of life.   


Comment or Reply: Talk With Me

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *