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carbonrain Jan 2019
I love her.
I want to wake up next to her.
But last night we didn't say see you later,
we said goodbye.
harlon rivers Sep 2017
The fleeing clouds have cleansed the tawny earthen meadows
Migrating sun doth steal away waning light of summer’s glee
High atop fir boughs bow in wind whispered homage
To the sapience the coloured leaves hath gleaned

The sweet scent of auburn brindled pinecone clusters
Ooze of  glistening pitchy resinous fruit
Sticky figured squirrels chatter while they gather,
Stashing a survival cache of acorns and spinner seeds,
For another moment in sleepy winter tide dreams

A swirling eddy of spiraling leaves whirl beneath the tall timber
Fluttering gracefully with a gravity only falling leaves embolden
Enchanting like the evanescent timbre poignant piano notes decay
Writhing silent as summer Jasmine’s fragrant final bloom

Dandelion wishes soaring higher to kiss the fleeting winged skies
Lazily adrift up and over Cascade Mountain Crest
Fuzzy treetop flyers ascending far beyond darting dragonflies below

The sliver of golden harvest moon’s blossom aglow ,…
While wishing upon a shooting star's paling gleams
Serendipity sown about whimsically in the blustery wind
For to sow the will of untamed heart’s desires                                    

A festive troop of Chickadees clinging like tiny acrobats
Foraging on ripened ginger hued fir-cone seeds
Wings to the sky wave goodbye to the deciduous cadence
Softly wafting with a pungent Lavender potion scented breeze

There is a secret place where memories go to hide deeply alive
Amongst the wild wood and impending leafless trees,
The only place on earth I've ever understood a sense of belonging

Where Autumn coloured leaves whisper in the gentle breeze ,…
                  “I would do it all over again”

Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down


                      © ... September 15th, 2016
if … we will be remembered by our poetry;
It would be my hope to be recollected
for an intimately personal love and respect of all creation
Although there has not always been an emboldened sense of belonging with others, I have come to understand I've always belonged to the untamed wilderness of myself, still understanding that love is the eternal purpose I'll strive ―

Sometimes we sense that we feel too much
Being highly sensitive is not an imperfection but a gift - -
not a misunderstood, stigmatized, dark &  broken star
befallen a Sky  full of  Stars

always believe a poem can make a difference -- even if it is only a difference within you-- rivers

Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down
Written by:  h.a. rivers
Pauline Morris Sep 2016
She stared out her window, it was scary and dark
Harvest Moon reminding her of all she forgot
The crickets sweet song, was a deafening roar
Harvest Moon calling, come and explore

This night and what would transpire, she already knew
The fear of it all, invaded her mind and grew
She decided to be brave and examine it all
It was the end she feared, not the fall

Harvest moon hung in the sky big and bright
She ventured outside in the soft orange light
The fireflies fluttered and danced under the trees
The leaves rustled with the chilly northern breeze
Her eyes darted and searched, fear clung to her
"why did this orange night occur "
She always thought this night would be red
Not this beautiful orange hue of the moon instead

The shadows reached out to her soul and beckoned
Feet hesitating for only a short second
Now deep in the woods no light escaped through
Harvest Moon not seeing her, once orange turned blue

The owls asked her questions
That we dare never mention
She answered them all with tears and with truth
Oooh those owls where such cunning sleuths
She walked on through the forest decay
Telling the shadows of memories to just stay away

She broke through the dark tree line
Leaving those deep inky shadows behind
She had came to a field of bittersweet wheat
Her fingertips brushed the tops as she walked with bear feet

Harvest Moon smiling to see she made it through
Her mind was the forest where the dark thoughts flew
Nightingales came to sing a song of rebirth
For that is what happens when you leave this earth

She stood in that field ready and willing
For the razor sharp scythe to do it's reaping
In the soft orange glow of that night
Harvest Moon made everything right
Her sorrowful life over with a whimper, not a boom
You'll find her up there visiting that glorious Harvest Moon

— The End —