Wrinkled black maple leaves fall on the ground
Green crab apples dot the fruit trees (again)
Orange sun dips and dims ever slowly, a clock
unwinds, music when soft voices die-
The season in transition begins -
a limerence - short-lived- with nature
Joy in all its exuberance as rain
pouring down, refreshing as cold ice on hot day
Wilting petals, incomplete poems & unopened books
remind me that birds will soon fly south of the border
I'll bottle up this music of birdsongs
& sweetness of child's laughter in the park
The smell of smoke from grilled meats
lingers, as well as the crisp evening air that drapes the sky
With autumn grey. With a coat, I sip warm chocolate,
inhaling the last of summer blooms & harvest of fruits
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
–Percy Bysshe Shelley, Music when soft voices die (Note/Credit to the poet)
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - August Transitions, hosted by Merril D. Smith. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.
