Falling Into Truth - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

                                 Falling Into Truth

 

The fall of October’s leaves is nothing new

Except that it is – this leaf never fell before

And we were never here to watch this leaf

Because we and the leaf were somewhere else

 

Except that we were, we are, we will be

A little leaf, each of us, springtime-new

Then dancing merrily the summer through

Now floating gently into a winter’s sleep

 

A coverlet soft, a hymn, a night-light moon

Sleep - sleep – another spring is coming soon

Like Children Dancing - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Like Children Dancing

 

Like children dancing, leaves form up in rows

Then skitter across each corner and street

As shoals in rolling ranks overflowing other ranks

Or little tornadoes laughing through circles and swirls

 

Like children celebrating their youth and strength

Leaves tumble and run before the shifting wind

‘Way up into the air and back to earth

In happy games of catch-me-if-you-can

 

Like children in the afternoon, just out of school

Autumn leaves joyfully mock every rule

Autumn is Life Writing its Autobiography - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Autumn is Life Writing its Autobiography

 

Autumn is not the end of summer, nor yet

Is autumn the beginning of winter; it is

Itself. Autumn is not between anything

Autumn is the culmination of seasons

 

The seed that slept beneath winter’s cold death

Arose in spring, a resurrection of itself

And grew its summer strength through work and sweat

And in September finished, and mopped its brow

 

Surveying all its cosmography

Autumn is life writing its biography

An Autumn Dream Again Denied - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

An Autumn Dream Again Denied

There may be frost this month, and a golden-leaf road
Straight north, but not for me. The answer is no.
Maybe next year in far Jerusalem

A Not Especially Original Poem About October Rain

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

A Not Especially Original Poem About October Rain

This morning I had planned to clear and burn
More of that summer-fallen live-oak tree
That giver of firewood against the winter cold
(I have more warmth than I will need - want some?)

But the afternoon’s rain arrived at dawn
I am inside with coffee, books, and thoughts
And meditations upon the rhythms
Of raindrops as they dance upon the panes

This morning I had planned to clear and burn

But I have my books

And so will give this day a thoughtful turn

An Annotated Study in December's Leaf Litter - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

An Annotated Study in December's Leaf Litter

Leaves fallen are summer’s tabernacle
Upon earth as altar, bearing life within
And life without: children, a protesting squirrel
And that storied grasshopper, unprepared

Neither blanket nor carpet, but a studio
Of life, in which cellular structure frames
The secrets of green chloroplastic life
And graphs the sweet, wind-chorused songs of summer

They fall asleep for a time, to awaken in spring:
Leaves fallen are summer’s tabernacle

An Autumn Bee Ballet - poem

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

An Autumn Bee Ballet

The garden out back needs mowing, but autumn bees
Good bees at work and play don’t see it that way
And spin about in the October breeze
Wind-spinning in the sun their bee ballet

The freshening winds have motivated them
To gather up and gather in the last
The last of summer goods from limb and stem -
Their easy harvests of spring have long since passed

They work, they know the winter winds will blow -
So I must find a different lawn to mow

December Through the Windshield - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

December Through the Windshield

The windshield wipers hiss-scratch-thunk, scratch-thunk
Scratch-thunk against the pre-dawn wind and rain
Thick sodden leaves protest against their fall
And cling forlornly until swept away

To disappear into the autumn night
Their loss unseen by two frail beams of light
Patrolling in advance, into the cold
Pgnoring the casualties left behind

December hastens to the year’s end while
The windshield wipers hiss-scratch-thunk, scratch-thunk

Shepherding Winds - poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Shepherding Winds

“Once I lived all alone in an isolated hut near a Greek village,

‘shepherding winds’ as a Byzantine ascetic used to say.”

- Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

The optimism of spring passed long ago
Those darling buds of May1 need raking up
Fallen away from summer’s apogee
Onto this evening’s still-warm autumn earth

And as with leaves and wind, dreams fly about
Flittering and falling until they land
As litter upon a page, jumbled among
A merry confusion of iambs and lines

Playfully resisting organization -
The promises of spring are autumn’s now


1Shakespeare, Sonnet XVIII

Indian Summer - poem

(Very happy to have the computer back from the mender!)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Indian Summer

Late, errant honeybees still swarm about
The hummers’ feeder in the afternoons
While lingering sunlight warms October days
Like lovers reluctant to say goodbye

Our little apian friends in chorus sing
A fading summer-song, before the frost
Sends workers home among soft, leafy ways
Of air and mist, over stubbled fields at rest

In that quiet hour before the moon
Ascends to light the autumn safely home

Indian Autumn - poem

Indian Autumn

 

Late, errant honeybees still swarm about

The hummers’ feeder in the afternoons

While lingering sunlight warms October days

Like lovers reluctant to say goodbye

 

Our little apian friends in chorus sing

A fading summer-song, before the frost

Send workers home among soft, leafy ways

Of air and mist, over stubbled fields at rest

 

In that quiet hour before the moon

Ascends, and lights the autumn safely home

Lawrence Hall

mhall46184@aol.com

Mimosa Pods - poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Mimosa Pods

Mimosa pods hang heavily in the heat
Like lurking green and yellow slithery snakes
Just waiting for their hour to drop to the ground
Between the lemon and the apple trees

All is quiet in the early afternoon
Even the dragonflies repose at rest
After lunching on their kindred species
And the mocking bird has sought leafy shade

The hours drowse until September, and
Mimosa pods hang heavily in the heat

Another Inadequate Baptismal Metaphor - A Poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Another Inadequate Baptismal Metaphor

September rain is a baptism of sorts
Redeeming summer’s woods and fields from drought
From death, at least a little while, so they
May vest themselves in robes liturgical

For late October’s frost-time funeral mass
Is celebrated with true festal joy
As in cathedrals, forests of the heart
With autumn filtering down through leafy prayers

The green months then slip softly out of time -
September rain is a baptism of dreams

Autumn Equinox with Heat and Dust - Poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Autumn Equinox with Heat and Dust

Perhaps old Janus is an autumn god
His door is open to the summer too
Open both ways at this the equinox
Upon tired heat and fall’s pale promises

Sunsets are earlier, and now the dusk
Is noisy with the mowers of late-summer
Still making hay while tractor headlights shine
Upon sad, dust-blown fields for one last turn

This is Saint Matthew’s Day, and summer still
Hangs heavily, like poor Macbeth’s late summons

September at Last - Poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

September at Last

A dawn under clouds – September at last
No one longs for August, or misses it
The heat and humidity linger still
But the mythology of the calendar

Has drawn the summer’s metaphorical fangs
And grownups now anticipate cold fronts
Like children who know that Christmas will come
Although the season seems to be taking

Its own sweet time in bringing home its gifts
Of chilly mornings, and geese winging south

When Autumn Slipped Away

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

When Autumn Slipped Away

 

When Autumn slipped away into the night

Taking along her gentleness, her smiles

The creaking walls ticked minutes dark until

Winter arrived on wild winds winging south

And made dawn’s colors hide within the earth

Yesterday’s glowing woods – now cold and grey

Haunted by drips and damps and hopelessness

And voices from a summer’s yesterday:

The world was wan with poor, pale-patterned light    

When Autumn slipped away into the night

Waiting

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

Waiting

Like farmers at the end of a working day
The trees are tired, the sky, the world, all tired
Exhausted from the heat, so very tired;
Creation seems itself to lie in stasis
There panting on the ground, but with great hope
For soon – today, next week perhaps – the leaves
Will stir with news from the royal-blue north,
Permission for the woods to sing again,
To dress in red and gold, to dance before
The silver autumn frosts that crown their year