L'aura del Campo

Autumn's final call

Autumn's final call

Wheatfields wither
and neither willow nor plum have leaves.

Life lies outside our grasp
as harvest sleeps in cellars
and dark dreams freeze frame images of Summer.

This is Autumn's final call.

The horizon empty, chill
and hills
that blend white frosting into sky devoid of color.

I search for you,
shuffle through leaf litter,

beneath the leafless plum,
the weeping willow,
wheatfields dun
and glum.

© Kåre Enga [164.135] 07-07-10

Inspired by a phrase from a poem by Olvido García Valdés: "la tierra entonces es marrón y ni sauces ni almendros tienen hojas."

IMAGES:

Stars in the south-east. One star due west. The star in the north reveals itself as a streetlamp shining through the pine. A cottontail twitches ears and runs in circles. I pump my legs on the swing to catch a breeze, let go ... and fly.

A family of barn swallows flitting in and out.

THOUGHTS:

Best no thoughts. I was stressed last night, but resolved the issue today. Missed an appointment by remembering the wrong hour. Ate meatloaf, cottage cheese and pickled beets. Treated myself to a chocolate shake. Sitting with my coffee now and trying not to think.

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