Enjoy this poem that I wrote about Autumn while I was anxiously waiting for a debate I was participating in!
It was calm a day as ever,
Lacking in the season’s disappointing weather.
Wading through the murky river,
Kicking up muck and loose silt.
Trees turned their autumn hue,
Dancing in a waltz of crisp winds,
Trying to venture their way through
The imposing wall of sturdy lumber
Protecting the town in its evening slumber.
The night was calm, the wind quiet,
An evening of pure delight.
Fish danced around my boots,
For they had seen with their shiny eyes,
That I was the instrument of their demise.
Night grew old, I grew tired,
I disembarked my moonlight post,
For the trees and the pathway led
Through the forest that has shaded
The quiet town from which had faded.
In the mind of the neighborly traveler,
Stumbling upon the town, curious,
He could see the steeple imposed on the moonlight.
A delightful sight, the dark night,
Swallowing the alabaster dress of the curvaceous tower.
An eerie moonlight struck the leaves,
Rustling hurriedly below my feet.
Stomped out of their fragile structure,
For thus my hustled presence ruptured
The quiet beauty of the hemlock trees.
Flame flickered in the peak of the tower,
Dancing in the window, inviting the inquisitive pilgrim.
Its spark grew brighter as I approached the perimeter,
Muddy silt turned to gravel, turned to cobblestone path.
Click, clack, click, clack.
I gazed around me, Maple trees swayed.
Ravens took flight, escaping from one peak to the next.
What did they seek? Who knows,
Maybe the crows hid something in the straw of the man in the field.
Maybe, just maybe.
The wind drifted loosely through the air,
Through the crepitation of the evening, whispers sounded around me.
I could feel eyes peering at me, almost as if I was being watched…
Nightfall turned pitch black,
Down the road the frenzied gallops of a colt pierced the serenity of the night.
The clomping of the hooves echoed through the loose cobblestone,
Reverberating upwards through my bones and cartilage.
Frightened, frozen by a startling sound, I stood still.
It was a rider-less horse, dashing through the branches and brush,
Panicking at the sight of something.
I cannot guess.
I’m disgruntled, but I keep walking.
My veins cool, my nerves calm, my face falsely exuding confidence.
I push onward.
I near the bend in the road, weeds overgrow a long forgotten shack.
About a hundred feet to the left is an iron gate, neatly trimmed to hide the impending invasion of the green foe.
I glide my way up a long brick walkway, slippery from the heavy dew that sat itself upon the town.
Near the end of the walkway I could see a house of three gables,
Elegantly covered in its wrap of dark green,
A human ode to the forests that loomed in the background.
A woman of heavily beauty, torn apart by time itself,
Though it was mine.
It was home.