The Season of Death and Life
Nowhere in the wide world
is death so stunning,
so beautiful as in our
wooded lands-- a plethora
of colors and shades
as dying leaves clutch
desperate to their trees
until they can no more.
Here and there
a Japanese Maple
seems to burst over-
night into volcanic flame,
its leaves dripping the
molten red of lava
as the lowering sun
streaks through
its myriad spires.
And we walk like kings
on thick carpets of gold,
feeling keener of life
by the sharp cool air,
a temp somewhere
between the deep,
deep heat of birth
and desolated
frozen death.
For some of us,
autumn is sadness
personified: presage
of one's finality.
For others, it's a
season of glory,
death's door
adorned.
Copyright © L. J. Carber | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment