The autumn wind has stirred to life,
Conductor of familiar arias;
It tears off leaf
By
Leaf—
Meticulous *staccato*.
Yellow leaves fly away,
Parting from their native branch,
Waving their red
Scraps.
Rising toward the yellow cloud-path,
Toward the red vault
Of the heavens—
Yellow and red aircraft,
Red and yellow kites,
Balloons;
Brittle as human frailty—dry,
Dry, dry, yellow, yellow;
At times wistful, solitary, yellow,
At times caught in a red whirlwind
Of locusts.
They sing a long, yellow song,
They sing of sorrow—
Red—
In the treetops
And above the treetops;
Autumn howls with yellow pain,
Bends double in red despair;
From the cherry tree's crown, it sees the suffering—
Yellow, muddy,
The red tears
Of parting.
Autumn rain pours down—
An autumn poem.
-
Author:
Lily of the valley (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2026 03:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- In collections: Chiaroscuro.
Offline)
Comments1
Color in flying objects that eventually come to the ground. They paint this poem an autumn color and I can feel the wind in its gusts. Nicely done Durdica it casts these leaves as flying analogies each with a feel and meaning. Well done my friend
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