by Glenn Currier
The winds and bright dying
of the leaves of fall
have brushed away the turning season
into the callous cold of winter
leaving behind a brown texture
of oak and pecan
scattered on the still green lawn
where they rest humbly,
their identity as living species
shriveling into the fog of memory.
I wonder what I can learn
from those leaves and the trees
who gently let go of all the little lives
and lay them on the ground
first to decay and then transform
from drying aching olding
into a mysterious unfolding.
Author's Note: Thanks to Brian Francis and his poem, "Bluster" which helped unfold this poem.
Posted on 12/04/2018
Copyright © 2018 Glenn Currier
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Brian Francis on 12/04/18 at 03:11 PM|
I so love the visions of nature you highlight with this piece. So grateful that the decay of my work allowed for this wonderful unfolding. Nice flow and message. -bf
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/06/18 at 05:12 PM|
This is a gem, Glenn. The flow is mighty fine and I love these phrases - "bright dying
of the leaves of fall" and "the trees
who gently let go of all the little lives." Into my favorites! Thank you.