The season
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The leaves fall lovingly kissing the ground.

Summer has parted, autumn is humming her tune.

Wind, wind carries her skipping across the field,

Her feet dancing across the yellow brown earth.

The maple leaf hears her song from afar.

Was a fantasy, filled with all the dreams and hopes and imaginings

Alas! turned to brown faded crusty dying remnants

Of what was green and hopeful?

Where is the golden breath of summer,

The glowing hot fire, the green sparkling light?

Her spine shivers and shakes.

Again, the dream no more than a dream,

The image an impossible fantasy.

Live the fantasy!

Clutching the air, she glows from the edges, the green brown edges,

Still hanging on in the last moments.     

Her golden brown center sparks for an instant,

Then burns like an ash, darkens.

Skip on, my friend, my living, breathing sister, find your fantasy created.

 

Barbara Rosenthal, 1981