Friday, October 14, 2011

If leaves could talk on POETRY FRIDAY




Welcome to Poetry Friday. It’s a wet one here, perfect for enjoying the poetry selections posted at Fomograms. Thanks, David Elsey, for hosting today.

The leaves are lovely now and have helped me let go of summer. Hurricane Irene stripped many leaves away in August. The damage and hardship in neighboring areas has been so great that we’re not complaining about something as small as the lack of brilliant foliage. My mom used to sing this song in the fall:

“Come,” said the wind to the leaves one day /“Come over the meadow with me and play /Put on your dresses of red and gold /for summer is over and days grow cold.” American poet George Cooper

Remembering it got me thinking about what the leaves would say to the wind.

The Leaves Respond

Red silk rustles down
by the cattails and muffles
the murmur of gold gabardine.
Russet taffeta swishes
along the stonewall to
pose beside a bronze brocade.
Showing the fall collection,
they ignore the wind’s call.
They zip their zippers, fasten
their buttons, smooth their creases,
twirl, dip and sashay.
With a backward glance
and a ruffle flounce, they say,
“High fashion doesn’t play.”
Miffed, the wind insists
until colors deepen and reach their peak.
Then she teases apart their seams
and gathers their gowns
around their knees.

5 comments:

  1. LOVE this! Love your fashion-maven trees and the insistent wind who picks their seams until they unravel before us! THAT'S what I'll be thinking about when I rake later today!

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  2. Thanks, Mary Lee. Rake those silks and taffetas into fashionable piles. We chop them up for compost gold!

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  3. Another autumn-inspired poem!

    Here are my favorite lines:
    "Miffed, the wind insists
    until colors deepen and reach their peak.
    Then she teases apart their seams
    and gathers their gowns
    around their knees"

    Actually made me think of a lovely costume for halloween. :)

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  4. Thanks for the comment, Myra. If you create this costume, please send a pix! I'm picturing a brown sheath for a trunk with yards of brocade cascading from the knees!

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Comments welcome.