"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Monday, November 2, 2015

Disciple of Autumn

When death demands its due
let me die as the death of autumn.
She doesn’t go quietly or dimly.
The north wind tears at her limbs,
but she bends without breaking.

With glory stolen from the sun
she drops leaves of red and gold
on shorter days gathered on her doorstep.

She is harvest, thanksgiving, the comforter
to spirits walking the valley of mortality.

I want to be a disciple of autumn,
spread her gospel of riotous dying.
My flesh one day will succumb
to the reaper, but my spirit will join
the soil of another soul’s evolution.

©Susie Clevenger 2015


Gail said...

This is beautiful. Oh, that we all could leave that way (no pun intended) by giving something back.

Mama Zen said...

spread her gospel of riotous dying

I love that.

Margaret said...

Perfectly captured the feeling I had when I took this photo. This "death of autumn" is so beautiful - surely a lesson in it for us. Well done. Love your words.

Ron. said...

Ladies and Gentlemen, THIS is how to write a poem.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I LOVE this! Especially, "she is harvest, thanksgiving and comforter...." What a wonderful idea, to go out blazing with colour and riotous, joining "the soul of another's evolution."

Sheryl Tanya Page Raun Chambers said...

lovely song for autumn.

Hannah said...

I love the idea of being the disciple to autumn...very wise indeed. Nature, our teacher. :)

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