A few leaves now turn
yellow and brown, fall begins
with invitation, the year is ending.
I walk along a line of scrub oaks,
their limbs above me
a dome of airiness I cannot understand,
a language I haven’t learned.
Their limbs reach up to touch the sky
as if all is connected, all hums with change,
beginnings and endings coil together,
I feel lighter as if
I could turn and curl into tomorrow,
at one with leaves scattering in the wind,
the smell of rain just out of reach.
Return to Sunday Scribblings for more writings on the theme of INVITATION . . .
This shows such a close communion with nature.
ReplyDeleteInviting.
I love the idea of curling into tomorrow' also, the smell of rain just out of reach. Lovely!
ReplyDeleteI think I will join you and 'curl into tomorrow'. What a wonderful phrase.
ReplyDeleteYou have a way with words and phrases. Your poem has such vivid images. Really enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteSuch lovely words and imagery! Wonderful work!
ReplyDeleteYou have totally captured the feel of autumn. A lovely piece
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading your poem, even though I'm not looking forward to Autumn/winter weather. I felt a positivity here.
ReplyDeleteI love the fall. You paint it well here.
ReplyDeletelove this Beth, "I could turn and curl into tomorrow" -- the numbers of autumn days I have felt just like that --
ReplyDeletethank you for your comments - I am glad to have found your site
barbara