Gold

And birds fly south and birds fly south
Oh blessed season that marks my year to year
Beloved autumn, that starts my life anew and stops my mouth,
Renews my mind, my loves, my listening ear

My deepest, oldest thought, that blazoned longing comes again
Here into the melancholy of the hour I fall and find I'm home
The feelings I can't get to are torn apart at summer's end,
Rearranged into a watercolor of azure and honeycomb.

Each autumn, like the very vapor of this life, sits
Fleeting on the keen knife-edge of time
The sweetness of these days, or half of it
At least, is hidden in a shell of brevity, sublime

'Though summer's light and free, I love my tethers
That tie me to the world beyond this world
The Oldest Story murmurs through this weather
The light beyond the picture has been swirled

The creatures hide their nuts and burrow slowly
As crisp and frosty hours take their hold
Some fall asleep... but I awaken fully
This season, like the standing corn, is gold.

original poetry by Olivia

Comments

Auntie Meredith said…
So lovely to read this on the first day of Autumn. Looking through my window, there are no discernible signs here in the seasonless land of Florida, so it makes my heart happy to hear you put into words what we only get to dream about. You've given wings to my imagination, Livi.
Lyndsay said…
Beautiful. Just loved this.
Julian said…
Oh my goodness! Such wonderful talent! Absolutely beautiful! I've been really good waitin g for a post here lol. So glad to see you've come to bless your readers;)!
Thankyou.
Christina