AUTUMN IS A TREASURE TROVE OF SIGNS, SYMBOLS, AND MEMORIES
bitter smell of chrysanthemums corsages given at ballgames trimmed with tiny golden footballs
pots of colorful chrysanthemums red, dark red, orange and yellow my grandmother’s garden
the first indication of the change of season is the cool breeze on an august morning
anticipation soon the leaves begin to change one day the temperature drops
anticipation soon the leaves begin to change one day the temperature drops
and all the leaves fall to the ground at once as if by direction of a maestro
i can see him lift his arms and as he brings them down the leaves let go
hurling themselves gracefully to the ground the light is different... sharper in a way
pinon smoke in the air the sound of drums from the pueblo a magical time of year
newly ripe apples nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves pies in the oven
soon the snow will come transform the landscape we wait breathlessly…
and memories of you a fire in the fireplace quiet evenings at home
October 17, 2017
Note: Kim is hosting this Tuesday’s Poetics and she has been thinking about autumn: the clocks will soon be going forward in some countries across the world and the nights will be drawing in earlier. She has also been thinking about things we associate with this time of year and asked poets to choose "one" autumnal item, take a closer look at it in all its glory under a poetic microscope and write a poem about it.
I couldn't choose just "one" rather was thinking about how autumn is so full of signs, symbols and memories.
Note: Kim is hosting this Tuesday’s Poetics and she has been thinking about autumn: the clocks will soon be going forward in some countries across the world and the nights will be drawing in earlier. She has also been thinking about things we associate with this time of year and asked poets to choose "one" autumnal item, take a closer look at it in all its glory under a poetic microscope and write a poem about it.
I couldn't choose just "one" rather was thinking about how autumn is so full of signs, symbols and memories.
5 comments:
I love the title, Annell! I currently have a thing for longer and cryptic titles. And I agree, autumn is a treasure trove. So pleased to see a reference to the 'bitter smell of chrysanthemums' and the pots of them in grandmother’s garden - my grandmother loved them. That's a great image of a maestro conducting the leaves! You've also whetted my appetite with the 'newly ripe apples, the nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves, and pies in the oven', which also reminds me of my grandmother. My Tuesday afternoon feels cosier after reading your poem. :)
You make autumn sound delicious!
I think there is such a strong sense of place in your poem, the sounds from the Pueblo, the way the cold come suddenly... still some signals of fall are universal.. lovely
I remember seeing poplar trees drop their leaves in a single day. It amazed me when I first saw it.
There is all of the gorgeousness of the seaon in your poem. I most love - and would so love to hear - the drums from the pueblo.
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