fall

her mind has taken the place of leaves

Posted on

her mind has taken the place of leaves

each spring as the sun melts the remnants of winter’s last storm

a budding thought trickles in

sprouting greener than any other

in the summer that thought flourishes

soaking up the sun

and providing a cool place

for others to lay

but as the heat grows

those leaves dry and become brittle

she doesn’t mind

because she loves the reds, oranges, and yellows

in fact

she can’t think of anything she loves mind

when finally short days are followed by cool nights

and the wind knocks loose the leaves

her mind rests peacefully

knowing this is the process she must endure

her mind has become a leaf

Posted on

her mind has become a leaf

each spring
as the sun melts the remnants
of winter’s last storm
a budding though trickles in
sprouting greener than any other

in the summer
that thought flourishes
soaking up the sun and
provides a cool place
for others to lay

but as the heat strengthens
those leaves dry and become brittle
but she doesn’t mind
because she loves the reds and oranges
that surround her

in fact

she can’t think of anything she loves more

when finally
short days are followed by cool nights
and the wind knocks loose the leaves
her mind rests peacefully
knowing this cycle is vital to her survival

the hill

Posted on

the hill

is his place of comfort

its plush green grass provides a seat unlike any other

soft

warm

cool

it is all that he needs it to be

 

from this spot he watches

 

he watches as the sun slowly starts to hide itself

vibrant green leaves change to red

before falling into piles that dampen your foot

or crunch with every step you take

he watches as the snow fall blankets his world

and covers the tops of the buildings in the city below

 

he watches children chase each other

sprinting ahead at the last minute

 

he watches as traffic stalls in the city

horns blaring and beeping

echoing through the sky

 

when he’s on the hill

he acts as a sponge

soaking in the world around him

continuing to grow

learning how to get by in the world around him

 

each day he descends from the hill is stronger

a better version of himself

and he tries not to let that fade

as he joins the masses on the streets

 

he feels

alone

until the heavy wood door clunks behind him

whisking up an aroma of aged wood and fresh bread

and he feels once again what it is like to breath

the flicker of light from the fire

Posted on

the flicker of light from the fire

converses with the colors of fall

strewn about the frail

crisp surface

a soft glow appears in its center

veins acting as pathways

guiding the light and the yellows and oranges

 

in some places

the light is blocked by its curves

casting shadows on the colorful surface

next to the fire these spots appear burnt

frail

that at the slightest touch or gust of wind

they will crumble

sprinkle to the ground

becoming nothing more than the particles

that make up the dirt

trampled everyday by those larger than it

leaf

the leaves have disappeared

Posted on Updated on

the leaves have disappeared

from the trees

 

a few remain

s     a     e     ed

.  c     tt     r

amongst the grass

losing its form

brown seeping through the green

squishing under my every step

 

I have now reached the sidewalk

whose color mimics that of the sky above

a lone red leaf lays flat

stuck to the grisly gray surface

creating a stark distinction between fall and winter

 

I hesitate

not wanting to step on it

not wanting to embrace the turning of the season

holding strong to the colors of fall

that are slowly escaping

and bringing about them change

hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

Posted on Updated on

hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

is the sun

it’s golden hue no longer emitted

a dreary bleakness replaces it

 

most trees have lost their leaves

and with no sun to strike the yellows and reds of those that are left

their beauty may seem to have disappeared

overtaken by a thin layer of gray

reminiscent of the sun

 

the clouds continue to darken

shifting slightly closer with each second

 

but does this truly make nature any less beautiful?

 

the sky

with no sun to capture all the attention

seems endless

beauty lingers in the darkening shades of the leaves

and the layers of darkening clouds

are a mass of colors not seen every day

the day is peaceful

less hectic

there is a wooden bench

Posted on

there is a wooden bench

the wood is worn, near splintering

and the once walnut finish has faded to gray

 

the sun

which is surrounded by clouds

but not blocked

casts a soft warmth on the bench

inviting me over

 

I sit

looking up at the beautiful maple standing behind the bench

its leave have begun to change

only a handful of green is noticeable amongst the reds and yellows

 

it is not until this moment

that I notice the many leaf less trees that surround me

they are bare

lonely

they lack the warmth of the maple

 

a quick gust swirls past

there is a ruckus in the branches above me

crisp leaves rattle together

one

lone red leaf

t

.   w

.  i

.    r

. l

s

(in the still air)

(cascading towards)

me

seconds pass by

until it takes its last twirl

and lands next to me on the bench

its vibrant red color

standing out against the gray of the bench

signaling what is to come