Putting our Heads Together

Putting our Heads Together
I don't think he sees me

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Sleight of Hand

Fall does not fight
The battle that Spring does
With sluggish and greedy winter
Summer is lazy in its own heat
And will typically share a stroll
Hand in hand with Autumn
For some small companionship
At the end of his shift

It is that time now
When Fall is just acquiring
Her voice, an audible whisper
Of course she has been around for a little bit
Felt in the occasional chill
Carried sporadically on her soft breath
Seen in the occasional whitening
Of our breath on certain early mornings
But now she can be heard
Without the straining of ear
Or even the effort of tilting the head

Seductively she murmurs,
“Do not be afraid.
I know I precede death,
I know I am the boatman
Gently laying life in my wake
To be swallowed up by
Winter’s frozen current.
But I do it with such style!
I put on quite the show.
So watch,  Enjoy the fireworks.
Bathe in the splashes
Of yellows and golds,
Of auburns and reds,
And pay no attention
To what my other hand is doing.”

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