peaceandlovepeaceandlovepeaceandlovepeaceandlovealwaysandthenpea

Wind is whipping autumn into submitting
to its will. Has clouds scuttling
long held plans and trees bowing
too low to be safe. Leaves
that are brittle from weeks without rain
and thin as onionskin
from being pounded
by the deluge that followed,
fall as if driven like cattle
to the slaughter. At first,
they fell by ones. Had the leisure
of drifting and reaching out
to touch and try to turn
bad luck to philosophy
complete with clowning while being
herded. But now, but now,
the air is dark
with bodies exploded from limbs
and twigs. And yet always
a smattering holds on.
A fire-topped oak here,
a bronze-cloaked maple there,
a belated fireworks display of unknown
origin that is such a brilliant orange,
one peers from under lowered lids
as if it were an eclipse.
Bless those who go against the tide,
no matter what.
Hold on by your teeth
for your Moment.


(c) Phyllis Jean Green, 2006