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Casting a glance past my shoulder as Chopin’s Berceuse opens into the air
            light diffuses across the room with its Autumn shadow
 
            beautiful day … beautiful
 
            shimmers, ripples as dry, shallow water with dancing shades of 
            lilac leaves
            shimmering stream of light across a flaxen silk cushion
            nothing special, but yes
            the glinty lustre lingers here, simple, playful, randomly enticing

My eye to Autumn light is a relationship beyond my strength
            and always has been
            there, an unaccomplished lilac leaf, predominantly green with a touch of
            purplish blush, just flickered down past the window
 
Magical dance of Autumn’s delight, my delight
            the season’s progression to detritus and Winter’s insulation
            of wilted lamium, hardened rose-hips, flattened hostas
 
Blankets of leaves form pools of musty colour across our back garden
            (we were all away in different directions this weekend)
            and in this span, the paw-paw simply dropped its voluptuous
            leaves, leaving them strewn in an organized un-windswept circle
            round its barren form
 
Oh, the motion, waving, blowing, dropping, to barrenness
            who designed this beauty?
            not I, it is beyond my conception
            conceiving barrenness
            nature’s movement to senescence
 
Only she can create such beauty in this strange and entrancing ritual
            Autumn’s ebb-and-flow, dappled light, dance of crisp, rufous 
            leaves, of desiccated, musty, smudged ochre-paper
 
Little notes tumble through the fresh air and wood-smoke, notes of
            truth:

            Beauty lives here
            Come see and smell and touch
            Rusty impregnation of fluttering, flickering light and leaves
                        preparing for Winter’s sleep and Spring’s release

(October 19, 2009)
Glenn died less than a month later.  I, his mother, made a pledge to him that a book of his writings would be published.  It has been - I am Keats as you are...
Creativia Publishing:   I am Keats as you are by Glenn Peirson (2016-02-14) 
http://a.co/6YmStCq 
This will be his online poetry home.
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