A Country Autumn – 10

The paint begins to peel
Our stories start to fade
Our colors start to dim
Our fabrics degrade

But that can never mean
Though time be overriding
That paintings aren’t worth paint
A battles aren’t

Worth

Fighting

A Country Autumn – 9

The evening fast approaches, headed home,
Out on a country road that’s new to me;
I see a house and wonder who might live
In such a place, on such a property

And who I’ll never see or ever know.
Our interwoven web of place, milieu —
Where some lines meet awhile, and then part,
While others never touch, but

Almost do

A Country Autumn – 8

Oh, my child,
We played out on these hills
When you were just girl, and then
The season changed, and you were grown:
The life you wanted needing time
And space and countless years of work
For you to reach.

I walk this path,
And hear two younger voices, mine
And tiny yours; but know that all that grows
Is for a season only, then transforms:
In your case into all
I could have hoped.

There is, there can be
No love like
The love I have for you,
A father for his daughter:
Strong as the earth
Through the glories of changing seasons;
Constant as time,
Ever-present even though you be unaware.

Oh, my child-adult,
We played out on these hills
When you were just a girl, and I
Was closer to the start than finish line,
But you are still my joy,

And I could not be prouder

Than I am

A Country Autumn – 7

the rolling hills, the curvature
of life. that he loves best of all,
before the autumn shows itself
in full, and every leaf
makes travel plans.
what is this
innocence, expansive
as the feeling in his heart:
the joy that seems connected to
this place and season and this day,
that sends regrets to find their
own address. and which may be
a sign of something more;
a harbinger of truth,
a sacred song,
a type
of violin, that’s
heard above the roar
of all the cars, thoughtless
with radios and sports and those
who have the chance to see and feel,
but don’t. a chance, a happening,
a sight that’s truly seen, is
not forgotten, like a love
that’s truly felt, and
and just as truly
curved

A Country Autumn – 5

Crops, like children, do not grow
The same from year to year;
We do our best, but even so,
We watch each one in fear

For all those things that may go wrong:
From slower growth, or faster —
The fear that which we’ve loved so long
Will fall upon disaster —

Yet both are raised because of love:
Of mind, and heart, and soul —
With help that’s often sought above
For all we can’t

Control

A Country Autumn – 4

“A battlefield this was”
Is likely true
Most everywhere we go
If we just knew.

But history, at least
What we discuss
Or think about, must
Somehow concern us.

But empathy, perspective –
These can grow –
Just know to think
‘Bout what you think

You know

A Country Autumn – 2

The truth is this: our wishes and our dreams
Tell more about us than appearances.
What truly is, ensconced behind what seems:
The barriers, the interferences

That come from doing all our everyday
Must-dos, that hide away our woulds and wills,
The nose to wipe, the one-more bill to pay,
The moving shadows stored online as stills,

That though they maybe colorful to see
Are more about what isn’t there than not.
The yearning humans, viewed complacently,
For what they do to just keep what they’ve got.

Appearance, less a window than a door,
For all of us, who know, inside, there’s more