Fall Carnival

Photo Aug 10, 11 50 40 PM - Copy

Young love, what it felt like. A clear Autumn day –
Golden leaves, a blue sky, the bright carnival way;
At fourteen years old with my very true love
A large crowd around us, a few clouds above

The roar and the music, the beautiful girl,
My mind in a passion, my heart in a whirl –
We watched as a pulling glass man did his craft,
And walked our wide circuit from fore back to aft

And we never touched – but somehow she touched me;
In ways that come back now in fair memory.
A crush, I guess, one hardly lasting much longer;
But for that one day, I had never felt stronger

And rarely have since. It was one of those things:
Days when your heart’s dancing and when your soul sings —
When Autumn embraces you, full, as a boy
And all coalesces with love
And in joy

I hear the ocean call in fall –
For others, it’s a summer thing –
But me, it’s water that I seek,
And not merely the sunshine

Another sort of teeming world
That comes to life again in fall,
The way that I do, every year,
When all the swelter’s passed

I’ll head out to the beach again,
The lonely now, neglected beach,
With others watching football in
Their jerseys and their sweaters

A thing, too, that I will do soon,
But not right now, not on this day:
I hear the ocean call in fall,
And I can’t stay



Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air
A wind that makes my neck aware
That leaves torn from the tree will die
These poor gray strays who tumble by

And like the ghostly light I seek
The morn recedes behind the line
Only of chance to risk a peek
At drifting lives
Like yours

And mine


(“Aware” – 11-19-2014)

Dreams and Autumn

The autumn turns to gold and green,
The winter stays at bay,
There’s mist upon the meadowside,
And breeze to kiss the day;
There’s music in his very soul,
His senses sharp and keen —
He sees, and knows the world seems right,
    But what does it all mean?

He heard her crying in the night,
But it was just a dream,
Or maybe a re-living of
Some long-forgotten scene;
There’s sorrow in his very soul,
A ghost in the machine —
He feels and hears her echoed call,
    But what does it all mean?

Perhaps each moment, wrong and right,
Are meant for and hope and guessing;
Perhaps we cannot know the scope
Of every curse, or blessing —
And maybe we are meant to stay
Upon the edge, the brink —
But dreams and autumn scream the truth,
    It’s just not what
    We think

Frost Lines

The lines of frost.

The lines of frost across the leaves
Now deep within my face

And whence the once-brown hair had grown
The frost now takes its place

From Autumn into Winter comes
A chill that changes things

Beneath the dying leaves and frost
A seed
Of new life