Autumn Things
By Angusfolklore
- 1720 reads
Autumn things are not at the beginning,
but the winding stream that leads to an end,
the clogged up water course filled with
the gold of leaves and discarded fruit
from over abundant summer days.
Skies and trees blaze red.
Nothing dies. The sunsets sign,
something creeps in, the fear
of a year become middle aged.
We hurry on, because to linger
is to meet something in the woods,
woken from reverse hibernation,
Samhain’s heathen transient.
Heady smell of damp in all senses,
these things which might be
neither falls from the oaks
nor given up by heaven,
bronze mystery treasure
on the tawny forest floor,
rewards for the finder.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
This is so very lovely, in
This is so very lovely, in fact, that it's Pick of the Day. A perfect poem for the season. I hope the painting's ok, it's called Autumn Tangle and is from here:
https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:William_Henry_Holmes_-_Autumn_...
Please share on social media if you can.
- Log in to post comments
'bronze mystery treasure
'bronze mystery treasure
on the tawny forest floor,'
Wonderful!
- Log in to post comments
I love the first line. And
I love the first line. And then later, "Nothing dies" and "things which might be" and the last 3 lines, you evoke such a feeling of magic, not the friendly fluffy unicorn kind. Knowledge as old as the shape of our bones, its reason forgotten
- Log in to post comments
This is such a perfect poem
This is such a perfect poem for the season, with all its Autumn mysteries.
Jenny.
- Log in to post comments
Hi,
Hi,
I liked your poem : Excellent stuff !!!"
- Log in to post comments