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: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: turningpoint
- In collections: Chiaroscuro.
Offline)
Comments2
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
Thank you so much! Some leaves fall to the ground, some rise to the sky.
You are most welcome Durdica and indeed they do just as some wishes and some people do.
very well said seems to be true
Thanks.
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