The Colors
I am a simple autumn leaf,
Steeped in beauty, deep in grief.
The faintness of a green remains,
But brown reveals a thousand pains
Brought on by winter’s icy dread.
And there, behold a vibrant red --
It lies when it proclaims a hue
To rival spring’s pellucid blue.
The yellow there beside it shows
Anticipation of the snows
That soon will crumble me to dirt,
Deep in slumber, done with hurt.
A day or two my colors sing,
The blowing words are sorrowing,
A bit alive, but feeling death,
This beauty is my final breath.
It's not much of a poem, but I felt I needed to write it quickly, before these days of mixed coloration are passed. (Like, tomorrow!)
3 comments:
The photos and your poem are beautiful. Fall is my favorite, with its bittersweet burst of beauty before winter. My mother and I used to take walks looking for bittersweet vine to cut and hang on our door. To this day, I am always on the lookout for bittersweet vine.
You're a good poet, MK.
I must pick up some leaves soon!
Thank you, Mary Kathryn. Wish I could visit you to see those leaves!
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