Underfoot,
restive shift & drift
of fallen leaves –
maple, oak, hickory.
Above,
broad sky stirred
to depth of blue
half-recalled,
unprecedented.
Linger, Autumn.
The kettle boils –
always have I time
for you.
— C.Birde, 11/21
Tea with Autumn — A Poem
3 Comments
such loving, heartfelt writing
Autumn always feels like an Old Friend 🍂 Thank you for your kind words ☺️
A very simple and slightly jarring poem about what would seem to be a season favored by us both…and probably countless other Americans who are fortunate enough to live among deciduous trees of the mentioned varieties. [Some places might also see cedar, walnut and even gingko? leaves.]
I tend to ignore the sky when there are autumn colors around me…unless there are clouds of a distinct nature, puffy and white, stormy gray or painted by a sunrise/sunset. The trees and fallen leaves…and, when there are some, animals…are my focus. Not the sky. The crunch and rustling of the leaves, the myriad of colors, the gentle–and sometimes harsh–whisking sound of the wind.
I presume your image was a photo given a cartoon/painting filter-ing? If you had to actually craft/paint that image from scratch, I am bewildered how you did it. I could only attempt such a picture by dabbing colors on the canvas and then, maybe, attempting to add leaf lines to give some kind of definition…but I doubt the leaves would all be so accurately defined and shaded.