indigo echoes unravel the equinox air,
a lone key glints where daylight thins,
guiding you toward the quiet that waits..
gold leaves linger low,
purple drifting from the branch~
soft warmth in the air.
the tree keeps its quiet grace,
letting stillness paint the day.
It felt like Autumn
on this morning’s run
I want it to be fall
with its syllabus of vibes
I’m signaling a stance
I’m autumn’s undoubted champion
wearing my choice like gangland colours
- I could give my all to fall -
summer only ever had my subdivided attention
Summer’s just too needy: it demands relaxation,
bare legs, sun block, beach plans, hydration,
barbecue, and relentless fun, with scant variations
I want the visual promise of leaves falling
the flattering autumnal colour palette
my whole devotion crowns shortening days
fall always serves as a competent stylist
complete with venti pumpkin lattes
and mornings with a costume of frost
Unbind the theatrical heats of midsummer nights
and let the season's advance revive us
show us falls slanting golden afternoon light
let crisper darknesses harbour counterfeit witches
and lengthening dusks warrant winter wishes
Let fall assume her russet throne
and give us autumn’s cool agenda
without the influenza
.
.
Songs for this:
Ping Pong by Dimie Cat
Messy by Lola Young
Guttering fires
flame in leaf bones
cool winds
stir up sooty ghosts.
The trees that don't turn,
stay hung on a scaffold
where green ribbons fly.
Bat wings rattle
in morning airs.
Shoes crunch down
over the brittle fallen,
boots kick over
last ***-ends
of mist and light.
........................
Autumn expires in flames
yet simmers with flaring tints.
Leaf-fall crepitates and crackles
skived to crisp skins.
Hedgerows decant to vacant lots
bare twigs to wooden teeth.
Arboreal embers swirl
between barelegged winds.
The groundhogs have forsaken
dawns scant larders,
they seek deeper shelters
where moss-beds lay unseared
by smoldering remnants.
Frost glitters under
warm terracotta pots
Swish away you sweeping winds,
Halloween will be late this year
for the dead are still dying.
Autumnal air
The month of October in the Upper Algarve
with a cooling evening and sunlight
begins to fade earlier every day.
The sky is still blue, if a shade paler than
yesterday`s and has white whispery
strands of clouds near its horizon.
Windless, this day, birds on the roof have
flown for a short break in Africa, but will
I'll be back in March to start a family.
The man from the forest has delivered
Winter Wood gave him whisky and
wrote him a check.
it’s raining leaves
hallelujah
it’s raining leaves
and those shapes
are leaping over me
they’re coming down
the jewels of a crown
hallelujah
it’s raining leaves
and I’m crushing them
descending, ascending
and I’m grooving,
hushed at the sound of
hallelujah
hurray, my legs hurt
in just the right way
what a great payday
the parchments of ink
that infuse from the gates
of heaven, I sink
into the scurry of tulip,
maple and birch
and I raise my hands
and my eyes do glow
hallelujah
it’s raining leaves
Death
in autumn
colors in their beauty
falling without fear
without grief
simply ending the
story of the summer's
green outgrowth~
similarity cries out~~
Autumnal Tints in Concord.
"It is pleasant to walk over the beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling leaves. How beautifully they go to their graves! how gently lay themselves down and turn to mould!—painted of a thousand hues, and fit to make the beds of us living. So they troop to their last resting place, light and frisky. They put on no weeds, but merrily they go scampering over the earth, selecting the spot, choosing a lot, ordering no iron fence, whispering all through the woods about it,—some choosing the spot where the bodies of men are mouldering beneath, and meeting them half-way. How many flutterings before they rest quietly in their graves! They that soared so loftily, how contentedly they return to dust again, and are laid low, resigned to lie and decay at the foot of the tree, and afford nourishment to new generations of their kind, as well as to flutter on high! They teach us how to die."
-From "Autumnal Tints" by Henry Thoreau; 1862.
It could be an autumnal syndrome
The northern wind blows in my mind
I remember the sound of your ringtone
Imagining you couldn’t find
Your very advanced new android
So what if I give you a ring?
In hope if that wouldn’t annoy you
Cause it'll be just one short ping
My darling, who’s playing with us?
You don’t even appear in my sleep
If we are no more than a dust
Why should our dust feel so deep?
We live, then we vanish away
Time passes, the years go by
So what is the reason, please say
I can’t understand, though I tried.
Fragrance :
Autumnal flow
of scent of harvest fruits,
essence of cedar, cinnamon-
Spicy.
Ichi Katauta: “First Value: Love of Closure”
harlequin stage, left
vibrance peels a tapestry
the wilted absolved its grounds
Ni Katauta: “Second Value: Love of Survival”
squirrels store the scavenged
empty nests v-shapes southward
healthy surrenders the weak
Sedokada: “Sixth Evaluation: Love of Perpetuity"
bunnies graced the moles
foxes leap at the snowbound
bears, closeted in caverns
finesse touch canvassed
barren wastelands abiding
instants of sunlight’s promise
October, the month of cooling breezes
and adorn,
this morn-
my daughter said, “The tree cutters will
be here.”
Just as soon as she spoke they appeared,
my being aged shuffling to the table
with my coffee,
through the sunroom window I did see,
a lithe and handsome workman-
long dark ponytail scaling a tree
with ease.
Suddenly it seemed a Pavarotti aria
resounded through the turning leaves.
Well, this old biddie wished I was in
my twenties again,
when the thought of golden years
was foreign.
Yes, I love watching the backyard
birds and such,
but the autumnal beauty of him
enchanted me much.
My daughter and I laughed,
because I’m really quite daft,
I felt the need to return to my
morning prayers,
I’m sixty-eight and I
don’t dare,
to think too much as if a youth-
but, now and then,
it’s delightful to gaze at comely
young men!
AUTUMNAL DELIGHTS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
leaf-covered sidewalks
pumpkins ready to harvest
gourds covered in frost
leaf dervishes w
h
i
r
l
vow autumns effervescence ~
conscious elements
AUTUMNAL BLISS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
autumn's winds, a playful caress
dissonant wind chimes dance in artful bliss
With gentle hushed whispers
autumn paints umber hues
dabbing silvery mist
ochre autumnal shades
embrace misty mornings
a grandeur of nature
Placed second
SOME KIND OF MISTY Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Date: July 6, 2025
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