My First Fall
Fall. Nature's sewing season.
She and the wind spin leaves into thread,
knitting colorful foliage blankets
draped o'er hills,
changing death to beauty.
ironic beautification.
Spring's beauty anticipated,
while Fall's suprises my untrained eyes.
Look to the trees and see branches nude.
Oranges, reds, yellows come down,
when trees subdued.
She and the wind spin leaves into thread,
knitting colorful foliage blankets
draped o'er hills,
changing death to beauty.
ironic beautification.
Spring's beauty anticipated,
while Fall's suprises my untrained eyes.
Look to the trees and see branches nude.
Oranges, reds, yellows come down,
when trees subdued.
photo: Mike Gilger
posted by wes at 12:46 PM
6 Comments:
i would prefer if you sighted the photo in MLA format.
ironic beautification. I love it wes. this poems speaks so clearly to me. it makes me want to jump into a pile of leaves.
jd came up with that phrase i just expanded on it. but thanks brother for your comment
Wes,
I recognize this scene as looking up mainstreet toward the train tracks and the post office on the left. Makes me miss being there in Wilmore. I wish we would have had time with you there.
I love part about "changing death to beauty."
This is way of interacting with the cross as well, seeing death in a new way.
Great poem and excellent observations. Will we see more poetry and prose from you? I hope so. I have been enjoying reading about your journey at Asbury. Feels kinda like being Frodo sometimes, doesn't it.
really nice poem wes-- love the sewing metaphor. very nice work.
it must be beautiful up there
Post a Comment
<< Home