Poems

A Dirge, for Autumn

Winter gives and takes equally

but knowing that doesn't make the loss easier to accept.

The juvenile hope remains that this time will be different

that somehow, the seasons will resist the natural order.

Not so silly, when thinking of the way autumn drags its feet on the way out

like a petulant child, wheedling to stay a few more minutes at the playground.

The frail frames of the leaves are shaking viciously, but persist stubbornly against the wind

They never want to let go

Content to die a slow death,

waiting... always waiting

and hoping the branches will once again provide life.

The day will never come

and lessons are never learned

Because winter is an unstoppable force. Only held off for so long

and when it comes... so do they fall

reluctantly

desperate stems grasping at dry wood, knowing they will always fail.

The fight is meaningless in the end

they join the carcasses of old friends

bitterly settling where they always knew they would:

dead leaves on the dirty ground