A cold and blustery day calls for something fitting.
Enjoy the cold embrace of Fall…from inside, hopefully cuddled in your pajamas with a furry beast close by.
We are the Autumn, love
the life of us, shrunken and dry
And the icy fingers of wind
Slip beneath our coats
And the days are short and gray all round.
We know the dark horizon lies ahead
straight from the one track road
our hands and eyes have fallen to
And all that was spring,
Rounded and succulent
Is nothing more than shriveled blooms
Long ago spent are the fickle buds of youth.
We are not buried yet,
Beneath the ground, the snow
But we will not again crash into the world
like vibrant green and cherry blossom pink.
Such a subtle death is ours to claim.
Beneath the acrid crunch of leaves
And the ceaseless, howling gray.
Good morning poetry hounds!
I’m pleased and excited to feature the latest submission from K. W. Bunyap, for your VerseDay pleasure. K.W. is an avid hunter and fly fisherman. He’s an airline pilot by day and a novelist by night, creating beauty with images and words to balance out both sides of his beautiful brain. If you want to hear more about how amazing this guy is (including surviving a bear mauling and poor luck with rental cars, check out his awesome website:
K. W. Bunyap
Today, K. W. will be wowing you with a poem that settles into a special corner of my heart and it’s love of Autumn. Enjoy!
I watched the aspens turn today
And witnessed nature’s majesty.
Orange and gold replaced the leaves
Of green, and leapt from tree to tree.
The rising sun poked shafts of light
Down through an emerald canopy.
I lay beneath those dark scarred trunks
Of white, and lounged in reverie.
I watched the colors of autumn
Slowly replace where green should be.
The hues revealed the steady march
Of time, no more a mystery.
Deep in that secret mountain glade
The pigments were a potpourri.
Above, I heard a rustling sound
Of leaves, and something stirred in me. The leaves were changing, Fall was here,
I felt the warmth of Summer flee.
Watching the aspens turn, I thought
Of love, and gave my heart to thee.
What Was. . .
Hours fall silent in Autumn’s dappled shade
Swallowed in fiery grandeur.
Illusion of beauty
Laid waste by crackling footfall.
Wind torn branches
Their cold black fingers
Silhouetted against the potential dawn
Where murderous flocks huddle
Waiting for light,
Both are gone.
Good evening! Today is about the terrible habit of looking behind, and being tethered to memory… and I also think I might have a hankering for fall.
Photo by Vali S. on Pexels.com
Lie in Weight
Now the days of yielding past
And fallow fields in quiet repose
Beckon down dark geese in flight
The crackle of air settling cold
The dusty birth of Autumn spreads
Waits for coy light to brave horizon.
I am still and lingering.
Patient like the fading light
The callous bite of snows to come
And the bitter taste of wood smoke in lungs
I remember the hush frosted grass beneath feet
Like your breath on the apple of my cheek
Clear as the fading day and vibrant as fog on the moor
How I long to miss the memory
When will it burrow beneath ground
Settle somewhere in the dirt where you hide
For my dawdling to cease.