FALL

Fall

by L.A. Steel

 

Leaves begin to change

acorns fall to the ground

winds  blow the leaves and the rain

against wilting flowers and brown lawns.

 

Squirrels scurry about

eating and collecting acorns

storing them in a corner of my shed

in nests of old  newspaper and cloth.

 

I saw a tit mouse suckling her young,

as I turned over a board from a pile of wood.

Her eyes were like onyx stones

as she stared at me in fright .

 

Three sucklings attached to her

were unshaken as she ran away. 

A field mouse poked his head out of a clay pot

as I rummaged through the shed to find a missing tool.

 

He quickly jumped out of the pot

and scurried across the floor  towards the door.

I looked inside the pot and saw a half empty bag of grass seed.

I realized I had disturbed his feast.

 

I have noticed these last few days

A single monarch butterfly

flying in my back yard from one plant to another,

but especially to the Butterfly Bush.

 

Its purple blossoms delight the monarch,

but how secretive he is to have my garden all to himself,

except for this day’s sudden intrusion of a humble white moth,

flitting and flirting  about the  fall flowers .

 

The moth seems indifferent to the elegant monarch,

who appears slightly annoyed by its presence and

reluctant to share his flower ,

as they try to ignore each other.

 

The clumsy moth flies to another flower

As the monarch slowly spreads its wings

And glides to a more choice bloom,

And decides to stay a while to dine.

 

The autumn air and sunlight

brighten my words and music in shortening days

of changing colors of foliage.

 The first warnings of winter.

 

Dazzling autumn in Northeastern wonderland

swells the emotions with Nature’s change

as each leaf makes a last bold stance

against the fading sun and autumn winds.

 

Festivals and fairs celebrate the harvests,

with pumpkins and gourds and cornucopias

of apples and pears and berries, corn and cabbage

and other bounties on farmers’ market tables.

 

Bounty delights the eyes.

Laughter and joy abound as the

 the sun shines and music plays.

Majesty prevails, until the festivals end.

 

Weekenders return to the cities

when fall officially ends,

and the first signs of winter begin

 bringing the sorrow of autumn.

 

I am the last leaf on a barren tree

the brown grass and withered vine

the last bloom amongst the dying garden,

the carved jack o lantern on the frost covered step.

 

I am the rain filled clay pot

left outside the shed.

I am a widower

when autumn dies.

 

I am the distant sun,

the harvest moon,

Fire Maple and autumn gold,

crystal rain and hording squirrel.

 

In fall’s pageant of flowers and leaves

I walk against the autumn winds

and feel the cold

as winter settles into autumn bones.

 

I have often wondered of what remains in memory.

Not until it comes again will I see the colors I lament.

But winter, snow and ice kill all frail life

and dreams fade away or transform into gold.

 

A city of gold and  fire

resembles the Northwestern hills.

The radiance of death’s desire

makes the Fall foliage appear on fire.

 

Third dimensional existence

transcends to a parallel universe

real to the emotions

and intellectually sublime.  

 

I am time and space.

I am knowledge,

wisdom, need and desire.

I am the maker of fire.

 

Today the Autumn rains come

to quench the living and the dying.

The flood mocks builders and believers,

 and tempers the soul.