"She refused to be bored, chiefly because she wasn't boring." Zelda Fitzgerald

Friday, November 12, 2010

Poetry Friday: Leaf Verse

We are to that time of year that is hard for me to enjoy. We're past the glowing throes of autumn when the world is a blazing whirl of color and crisp days...we've had our first frost and snow and jackets are now mandatory. Now its on to hearth-fires and handicraft marathons, days when we snuggle under blankets and read stacks of storybooks and when we can't so I curse the windshield while I try to unearth it from its layers of ice with that little scratchy tool buried in the trunk of the van.

I want to be so cozy about it, I'm trying to will myself into that space by trying to enjoy even the annual destruction of the foliage.

Late Autumn Theatrical

There is a host of seasonal Post-it notes,
Flittering in our street corner maple-top.
They are pale, wasted ghosts of leaves,
Performing some great arboreal Hamlet,
Thinner than themselves, inscribed “November”
On every shuddering vein and tip.
We are at the climax now, the part where
There is a great stage-death, en masse
One million staggering, fainting falls then
Performing on the chill, even lawn
They twitch at the heels, gag and roll
Crisp into rigor mortis and compost dramatically.
Such an impressive show will doubtless
Inspire an encore and we will have the whole
Thing over again beginning with the bit about the
Hope of sap rising and the miraculous green buds
Whirling open their newborn chartreuse feathers.
Check out lots of other Poetry Friday participants and their selections here.


No comments:

Post a Comment