Aging rusts the soul
Life scattered like lights and doors
Falling leaves hide rust
Autumn Contemplation shows
Nature reclaims everything
Photo: Marc Andrew
Frank Tassone asked us to consider Autumn Contemplation, as we come to the end of this long hot summer. There are many ways autumn makes us stop and think about life. Nature, aging, and the combination of both remind me I am not invincible. When I was young, aging seemed far off, but now I am in the autumn of my life and realize in time I too will be like the car in the photo above. When gone, I will be remembered in bits and pieces, but soon, those too will fall by the wayside and the leaves of time will cover all. I decided to use this great photo again and write from a little different perspective. I am using it with permission from my nephew, Marc Andrew.
Moonlit reflection left on the leaf covered ground
The (Wo)man in the moon staring back at me
Shining in the leaves // smile fixed on her face
Lifeless image brought into view on the full moon
Knowing eyes that never blink // never close
How sad to be a Rushmore face seen only on moonbeams
Disappearing in the waning days // hiding in the dark
Only to reappear once again when the moon is full
Today at d’Verse we were introduced to the art work of Mary Frances. We were asked to write an Ekphrastic poem choosing one of her works. Ekphrastic poetry is a poem that is inspired by a piece of art work. I decided to write a fantasy poem from her face in the leaves picture.
This crazy cowbird has been dancing on my window sill for the past four day or more. He sees himself in the glass and fluffs out his feathers to show he is boss. He does it most of the day. Once in a while he goes to the feeder to eat and comes right back. If we chase him away. He comes right back. I think he must be a little neurotic! This is my Haikia for Frank Tassone’s poetry challenge using the word warm.
Silly Little bird
Still strutting across my window
Mirage in clear glass
Emotions rising with warm spring
Runway sill for strutting ‘round
Never tires of mirrored face
Loves his own image
Can’t seem to get past it
Perhaps warm hormones now flow
Where are your fine feathered friends
No future staring at one’s self
No warmth to be found in glass
No sweet feathered mate appears
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Written for Frank Tassone’s Haikai challenge using the word warm as our prompt.