On the overpass
a man throws his arms up
In crucifixion grace  
His expression is wandering between
Elation and desecration
Face ****** to the late afternoon sun
Belly pressed to the rail like the bow of a ship

My stomach curdling
I pass beneath him
Panicked, I check the rear view for swerving cars and relieved,
find none.
At home the 911 call list shows nothing
On that stretch of road.

I hope he was only greeting the autumn
An icarus whose wings
Never melted.

with frostbite
the willows slay
crimson briefcase

autumn reflections
wrinkled leaves wrinkled faces
mourning dead leaves




Mark Toney © 2021

I long for the breath of Autumn,
Lingering on the cusp of a heavier sun
And a horizon layered crackled gold,
For it's the chilled wisps of wind
I hold strong in my lungs
That's melancholic and
Warmly familiar,
It's the hint of a brewing shiver
That calms the aching mind
And eases the souls of the weary and withered.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                       An Hour with Dachshunds and Keats

The first day of autumn – surprisingly cool
In this almost tropical latitude
So after a day of working outside
I sat with Keats before a brushy fire

As is my custom I read his “Ode to Autumn”
With a tumbler of – lemonade – to hand
While the little fire sang its own kind of song
And the dachshunds snuffled among the leaves

The first day of autumn – surprisingly cool
And in her rising the Evening Star blesses us

Into mellow fields, all manner of beings go.
The bird to gather bug or seed,
The workers with their hoes;
And, maidens who gather stands of wheat
In dresses that are blown.

September leaves rustled in the glades of my mind,
I saw them dancing golden since August and July.

They shone gently in the tone of your eyes - russet-chestnut and striking hazel;
I still couldn't name how they struck me like a sharp blade - cruel and fatal.

And I saw your ghost lingering
in the corn fields of this autumnal dream.
You as blue aciano, me as red poppy,
complementing our floral color scheme.

A person like you doesen't even exist
and yet I am writing this.
Summer died long ago
but we were meant for the fall with the aching of the cold wind's blow.

© fey (19/09/21)