Wednesday, September 28, 2011

A Change In the Weather

Each fall, I make a point of walking by these bushes 
to see if the leaves are the correct color, and have arranged themselves 
into a pose that would make a nice picture. 
So far, this is as close as I've gotten.

Sometimes, the yellow leaves hang in the gray weather, 
like a solitary heart waiting for an absent lover until,
 too cold and dripping with rain like a single tear,
it drops away, it's hopes turned to winter. 


dive said...

Poetic melancholy, too? Your talents never end, Speedway. That was beautiful, as is the shape of those leaves. I don't recognise the species so I suspect it just lives on your side of the pond.

Speedway said...

Thank you, Dive. You're kind, as ever. I didn't mean to make a poem, it just came out. I confess, though, I did go on line to see if I could find a poem about autumn, but there were none about yellow leaves and they were all just too sad -- death and decay -- and all that rot, when I wanted beauty and dormancy and hope. So I guess I made my own.

dive said...

I stick with Keats on Autumn.