HAPPY NATIONAL POETRY DAY!
Enjoy your poetry whether you are reading it, writing it or performing it. Here's one of mine. Rather apt for the time of year.
Autumn Years
These are the autumn days, shorter, yet more colourful
than the sum total of spring and summer with their languid headiness of new
love and hopeless romance. Love now runs deep, an earthiness beyond the ache of
wanting. It is solid, freeing, wise with experience, yet not without its
adventures!
My days come in flames of reds and orange when all my
fruits are multiplied and come into season. Their juicy sweetness runs in my
veins. I look back at those growing years. Am I wiser? I’m certainly older. So
I grab the sunny days by the scruff, bathing in vibrant yellows, greens, browns
and gold, and there is the scent guiding me home – wood smoke trailing to the sky.
But I’m not ready yet.
I love the misty mornings, the mellow tones clouded in
white. Then the sun bursts through and the trees are glory crowned. I waste no
time; daylight hours are shorter, there’s a nip in the air. I walk through
fallen leaves; gather shiny conkers, fir cones. The shedding will soon be over
and I am not done yet. There will be dark, sunless days, cold winds through old
bones, but I have no time for teary regrets. While there is colour in my days
you’ll find me walking under the sun, the juice of autumn fruits staining my
lips.
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