Autumn Thoughts

The trees around me are the Rolands of winter.
They know how to go –
Not complaining even remotely,
But accepting the challenge of their defeater
And rising to meet the blow
With yellows and reds and orange
And dappled browns.
Their glory is shed like confetti.
I listen to the leafs shouting under my steps.
They sound like they’re rejoicing.
They can take the time to be beautiful because they can remember dying before.
I can remember dying before.
It involved drowning, and disappearing sins
And a glad heart
And a glad life
And joy in the face of the nothing
That will never happen to me.

Life-Painter

I found a piece of driftwood, soaked upon the sand,

Drifted to my native shore from a distant land.

I took that piece of driftwood and burned it in the fire:

Blue for sorrow, green for strife, and gold for my desire.

I came upon a boulder, perched upon a hill,

Balanced there without a care, for me to work my will.

I pushed that boulder down the slope, a tumbling roaring storm:

Grey for madness, white for fear, and orange for loveless scorn.

I saw a piece of coral, as crimson as could be,

Scarlet-bright beneath the night, under the darkling sea.

I held that piece of coral and threw it on the shore:

Black for death, and red for blood, the apple’s fallen core.