The sun kicks back in its winter recliner
Closer, but not as a warm - like an insincere embrace,
From a form-only friend.
The dried leaves rattle across the dying grass
Like fiddler crabs playing end of season
solos
For an inattentive audience.
Autumn darts in and out of my vision
Like a dying wasp, starving
but unwilling
to die.
©Herb Ratliff, November 14, 2011, All Rights Reserved
What an exquisite poem, Herb. Such rich description and feeling.
ReplyDeleteHow depressing, Herb.
ReplyDeleteI see autumn as a flamenco dancer blazing with color, staccato stepping precision, seductively embracing what comes next.
P