By Cheryl L. Crockett ~ October 9, 2012
(hear this poem read by the poetess)
Lowering my window as my curtains reach to me,
Floating on a frigid gust that shakes the maple tree
And rustles red and amber leaves to finally set them free,
I listen to the music of their good-bye song.
Cozy in my sweater and my cup is steaming hot.
I look and see so many swirling swallows in a flock,
Flitting-flutter-fleeting, headed southward from my block.
I listen to the music of their good-bye song.
Colors of October wax then wane to brown and black.
The darkened leaves descend and die, but birds are coming back.
(And for their yearly autumn trip, they never need to pack!)
I listen to the music of their good-bye song.
Flurries are so quiet, I can’t hear them coming down.
I wake up so surprised to see some snow covers the ground.
As winter starts, there is no hint of autumn to be found.
No longer is there music of the good-bye song;
Don't forget the sounds of fall's good-bye.
#OctPoWriMo #9
I adore the sounds of leaves... I have referred to the sound as "God sounds" in the past.... when leaves fall to the ground, it reminds me, too, of surrender. You have captured their good-bye so gracefully. Love the cadence, rhyming and repetition, too. Reading it aloud... I can hear it all as if it was in the present. Brava!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your comments and for taking the time to write!
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