Followers

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Magpie Tales 35



The Fall

Not all
falls are without grace
it’s not all black and white

the lush green
slowly ages
to perfection
and one day

we wake like the frog
in the pan on the stove
who only notices
he is cooked

too late to realize
summer has crossed
the line

and we cheer
the cool afternoons
brushed with color
aplenty

we plan weekend excursions
around watercolor scapes—
drive deep into their belly
and breathe the discolored air
crisp and thick
with ripe

and over weeks
all this too
will pass

all will slowly
lose grip
in a
last
dying
act

and gently
on streams of air
fall effortlessly
without a sound
to the ground
below


©2010 – Michael A. Wells – all rights reserved

12 comments:

Helen said...

... this is beautiful!

Gabriela Abalo said...

What a awesome way to fall!!

I truly love your poem :)

Kristen Haskell said...

Beautiful magpie!

Julie Jordan Scott said...

Love the contemplative vibe here.... Sort of a moving, swirl energy that reminds me of the wind.

Read my Magpie Leaves Sing...

Tess Kincaid said...

I like how we wake like a frog in a pan on the stove! Great imagery.

Poetry24 said...

"..and breathe the discolored air
crisp and thick.." My favourite line.

Carrie Van Horn said...

Michael this is beautiful! :-)

Unknown said...

Who wants some frogs legs?
they taste like chicken

Brian Miller said...

fabulous...love the ref to the frog in the pan...and the progression of the season that passes too quickly...nice mag.

cheryl said...

"and we cheer the cool afternoons
brushed with color aplenty
" what a wonderful visual Michael and tis so true!

Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall said...

lovely word flow,
losing grips in a last dying act may be sad, but spring comes, life resumes after all of the falls...

cool style.

Tumblewords: said...

The first stanza leads us boldly into this wonderful read!