Wednesday, October 13, 2010

October Blue

The fall has a special sadness,
Lives wasted, shadows large,
The clarity of many colors,
The blankets filled with charge.

Achievements always aren't enough;
We hear the baby's cry.
The gold is scattered at our feet,
The choking vines untied.

We're left with consequences
In the sweetest picture frames,
The finite and the endless,
The dropping off of names.

With the first smoke comes the blue notes
And those just turn to breathing.
The forest clearings now appear.
We consecrate our wreathings.

What birds are left, in our blue sky,
What flowers can we savor
As darkness dresses fertile soil
And thoughts grow big and braver?