A Muted Day
I stroll leisurely along the avenue as silent trees stand sentinel.
Not one leaf rustles or whispers;
no branch breathes or even sighs.
No gust catches me off guard at the top of the hill
so that I pull
my scarf more snuggly ‘round me.
All is still.
The earth exhales its evocative perfume.
The birds quietly murmur
to each other among the leaves.
The squirrels merely mumble
as they scavenge for winter’s food;
their chatter subdued among the boughs.
The Crow’s raucous call remains unvoiced.
I wonder if animals are aware
of the change in the air?
How restrained they are -
how subdued the normal clamor.
As I walk, only my footsteps echo
in my ear - all other sounds are suppressed
to a subtle understated shuffle -
the day is like walking
through cotton – or a cocoon
of softest flannel- so subtle,
so serene, so restrained.
The autumn colors’ resonant pigments,
subtle as the ripple on a millpond,
hum an inaudible lullaby, rich and deep
to keep the noises at bay.
Today the burgundies, oranges
and yellows are muted,
their potency not diminished
by the absence of the sun.
I see each and every color created,
every individual leaf and branch
that shades the world;
and all the muted undertones
in between murmur their quiet hue.
The clouded sky of pearlized gray allows
the colors to emit the hue of their choosing -
burnished and buffed beyond recognition;
brilliant in the restrainment of inaudible
complexity -
on this muted day.
Copyright © Annette Gagliardi | Year Posted 2017
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