Autumn

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Autumn arrived

Much in the same way it always does,

With a blustering gust of wind

And a hint of chill in the air.

 

It came for me

While I was asleep,

The turning of the Earth

And the motions of the Heavens

Colluding to bring about the fall

Of all those brittle, bright-colored leaves

From their summertime stations.

 

Fall entered stage-right, and I?

I stood, enraptured, as She came closer,

Caught utterly unawares by her presence,

Not realizing that summer had gone

Until it was already far too late

To mourn its passing.

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Alone with the Sea

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Did you see the pale purple transparency of light

That just this morn, heralded the coming of dawn

O’er the ocean?

Did you notice the great expanse of grey that followed,

Or catch a glimpse of that pastel-colored leaf spiraling through the air,

                                                                    Earthbound?

Did you hear the owl’s lonely cry,

Watch the birds on their journey towards warmer waters,

Witness the arrival of another glorious day,
Or was it just me,

Alone with the sea?

The Elements

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The mountains pass

With the most stillness,

But the trees, they are

Such transient passersby,

Such fleeting parts of our lives,

Fleeing so quickly from view,

As if running on fleet-footed feet,

From some flagrant forest fire,

Far from here, and smokeless, too,

Cold, by now, ashes at most,

And scattered ones at that;

And of the human element?

The houses, the streets?

They, too, pass with rapidity,

Save they are not running, but rather

Are static, yet not unchanging –

Flaring and fading, then falling

Into the complete and utter abandon

Of ruination.

The Dew

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The dew that dazzled me this morning

Is gone,

So I was wondering if

Maybe

You’d want to go back,

With me,

To when it was still shining,

Radiant,

A tiny drop of the ocean

Clinging

To this terrestrial world,

Fast fading,

Yet glinting and glimmering in the sun

As if

It had nowhere else in particular to be.

 

Forsaken

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When I stepped out today,

I was not expecting the ocean to look so gray,

Nor the cries of the gulls

To match so perfectly with the outline of distant oceanliner’s hulls.

 

There are birds flying high above,

And part of me wishes Peace would send me her Dove.

Though I am so busy sitting here, writing this poem

That perchance I might miss the omen.

 

The clouds are collecting secrets

On the nature of human weakness;

They are amassing for war at their gathering,

While I paint them and wonder if this is the right moment to be capturing.

 

I am probably giving them more fodder,

But ‘tis true that I am the Mother Earth’s daughter,

And I could not resist the temptation

To watch them as they imagine the world below, forsaken.