10/03/2019
poem and photo by Nicholas Skaldetvind
Migrating beyond
the spectral past of summer
falling upon us
in suggestions of the rolling land’s winds
that the leaves must go
covering a meadow of burning leaves of autumnal tints of green and red under the foggy dusk
heaped upon a whole host of memories
of verdant grassy blades
and the withering wildflower stuck
right before
the goose-eye view
and the slanted sun’s radiant eye
fixed upon boughs of bristling trees
and rippling leaves
much like how the lament of wind
is the sighing eternal breath of a temperamental ventriloquist
in mercurial changes of mood
blowing a squall of leaves
over unseen roots burrowing deeper into the earth
beneath a backdrop of changing color
and finally still and stirring
and swift and fleeting
for a passage of time
never up to you nor I
to weather the world’s turning wood
together
with reinforced bodies
remembering to rest,
and to leave pain.
The changing leaves are fall’s dream
and if you catch my eye, like a withering meadow flower,
I might forget while autumn remembers
bargaining with the sun is a tree’s dream.
