Falling leaves glossy, shy and humble
often meet me wandering,
read wistfulness behind the smile
and offer themselves as paper–
sometimes to write upon and at other
with wisdom; there is no end only passing
of what had once been.
On the cusp of midnight, the muse fits
into corners of my mind;
empty, for reasons indescribable
and prettier boughs
lining the avenue, urge, sketch on
canvass along with his scent—
why is it that we come to understand
nature better after being fragile?
Darker longing pulls me into its orbit,
as clouds insatiable
turn to wind for solace and I think to myself,
what will I feel first?
Perhaps, it’s all about connection,
whether or not
the vibe we feel coincides with our own—
dare I take the plunge?
Broken pieces, the world revolves around
black and white, in turn
neglecting the areas that are grey,
don’t we deserve
to be viewed from a different angle?
The rose shrubs are no longer budding,
it seems they lie
in wait for another century.
Autumn feisty is both wrathful and calm.
It requires one to let go,
embrace what is relevant
and what is new; the grey undertones,
the signs, the literal concept
of starting afresh
if need be— how much can it hurt?
Leaves alone teach us that it’s possible.
Photo credits: Brown petaled flowers by Lilartsy, Pexels
Bjorn hosts at dVerse and invites us to try a new poetic form
known as “Cadralor.” Come join us! 💝
Posted for Form For All: “Cadralor,” @dVerse Poets Pub