Autumn knocks upon our door
Old bones and broken leaves
They scatter, quiet and yellow
At our feet
The closing, darker months no longer scare us
They make our stomachs flutter
As if full of butterflies
All the phantoms of yesterday
If not forgotten, receding
Sweet as poppies floating on the breeze
The air is quite enchanting she declares
Her wind swept hair falling over her face
Of course we remember
How we were tangled in a web of self destruction
Hardly struggling to get free
Like a wasp at the end of summer
Drowsily giving up inside the spider’s lair
Perhaps now we are a little excited
We like the cold air and crisp mornings
When we can take our walks
Think about books and poetry
The scent of wood fires
Smoke billowing from chimneys
The sweet and warming liquor of vanilla coffee
And carrot cake perhaps
If we want to treat ourselves
She giggles, face pressed against the glass
Of course there are stories
Times when
But we like that we can notice the change in season
And weather
Like the feel of raindrops on our face
The joy of moving our bodies once again
No longer captive in our bed or mind
I wonder quietly how many more seasons lay before us
If we, I , have reduced the number that will be gifted to us
All I can hope is that like the shedding of leaves
My core is now readying itself
For more time to come
Perhaps there are scars, marks in the wood
Knots of age and incidents passed
But they may grow stronger with years and changes
Perhaps we will welcome in many more autumns
Sweep up the leaves and tidy our bones
How magical the world can be.
For Shay’s Word Garden
