Fall

Fall

The leaves loose early now,

As hapless children

Pull away and run.

Bereft on barren branch,

Spotting in the sun,

Late apples cling 

Where just days past 

We loved beneath the green ---

Green scattered now, 

Leavings,  gold then rust,

Gone to ground too soon.

Too soon the hurried rush,

The barren branch,

The fallen, spotted 

Sticky, ripened fruit.

Too soon the leaves,

The fall, the spot of rust;

Outrun, the frenzied, scattered 
Sweetness gone to dust.

Shades of Falling

The Poetry Bus is being driven this week by Niamh Bagnall, and her challenge for us is to find and write about an article in the news. I have a confession to make: I wrote this poem and then went looking for an article that would suit. Believe it or not, when I Googled "burnt orange fashions," I found three web articles published today and numerous articles published in the last several weeks. So...here's the poem I wrote this morning, inspired not by the news but by the color of my new soft fall jacket. You can read other poets who probably followed the rules here.

 

 SHADES OF FALLING

The last time I wore
this particular shade,
it was also fall.
I was seventeen.
It was the Fireman's Ball,
held in the hall of the local Guard.

My burnt orange dress
fell from my firm young breasts
in the Empire style,
but you were the one who laid siege
until you conquered me.

It was fall, and we were
a young fireman
and his even younger sweetheart,
falling in love
in the spring of our lives.

They say if you hold on
to anything long enough,
it comes back into fashion,
just like all of this
comes back to me now
in shades of orange,
as burnt and sweet as autumn.

Darkness Falls

Darkness falls like Autumn leaves,

Upon the brown and barren hills

And in my heart, I come to grieve

As winds blow cold across the eaves

And branches scratch the windowsill.

While darkness falls like Autumn leaves,

Small creatures seek their burrows deep,

Heralds of the coming chill,

And in my heart, I come to grieve,

For winter moves in like the thieves

That steal the light and sap the will

While darkness falls like Autumn leaves.

The year grows short and I believe

It is with rue my days must fill,

And in my heart, I come to grieve

For all the failures to achieve

And all the hopes gone unfulfilled.

While darkness falls like Autumn leaves,

In my heart, I come to grieve.