Autumn Allegro

Red Leaf by Mary Bach

Autumn allegro,
perhaps that’s why
I love it so
coming as such a lovely death
flaming, raging, mellowing
then cooling, greying

This is for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where Margaret Bednar asked us to revisit an old writing prompt.  The one I chose is by Laurie Kolp, A Word with Laurie.  She asked us to write eight lines in one minute and include the word, “allegro” (which appropirately enough means “briskly” in music talk).


Today tastes just a little more
like fall.
Looking through the forest
there are spaces
between the leaves
that weren’t there a week ago.
It seems the bees are more insistent;
rose hips are on display
having grown heavy
and orange.
The day lilies have gone to seed,
rattling in a breeze
that hints at cooler, shorter days.
And here we are,
on the cusp of autumn
with winter in the wings.
Soon the trees
will reach their naked, grey arms
to a sky filled with geese,
and frost will spin
its silvery webs through the night.
Snows will fall,
light will fail,
the riot of life
will end.
Of course, after winter
there will always be another spring,
though it may not be our spring.

This is linked to dVerse Poets Pub open link night, though it started when Kanzen Sakura, one of the dVerse team members, asked us to write about changes.

Speaking in Tongues

Do you remember when we spoke
in the language of gods
in the old tongue
tender and true?
Whisper to me, again,
of your days and nights
of fruit ripening in the sun.
Tell me the secrets of the stars
Hold me in your song,
swing me on a promise,
remind me once more, how to hope

Night Tones

Dark walls of water
and sea-foam lace
reach up for a moon pinned impossibly high,
while the woods settle in
to the bed of the earth
with a shrug and a yawn and a sigh.
Then you lean into me
as I reach out for you
and we bid all the specters good bye,
at the edge of a world
where the nightmares are curled
and the stars fall away from the sky.

Originally written for the Imaginary Garden.