poem: The Golden Season

Late August - October in New England

The Golden Season

Dog Days are duly done, now
   and the air is fragrant
        with the scent of aster and Joe Pye and goldenrod
scattered in fields like patches sewn
  in Mother Nature’s autumn quilt- the one she brings out
for company- we being Her guests of honor.

The Light spills longer, shadow play illuminates all
   in scintillating scores of gold, innumerable
    shades and hues and tones, this.
We rejoice, harvest the fruits of April’s seeds,
         June’s tending, July’s thinning.
Drinking the air and swimming in Light-

Bathing in the ochroid afterglow, basking in warmth-
   as cats in the sun, flexing our claws, lazily, purring.
            The auric essence flows in goodwill, coats everything,
honey as a balm for our souls,
      Flax as tonic of our spirits- painted on our bodies
by viburnum’s burning hand.

Now is the time of joy, now the season of splendour-
   silver maple’s blood spotted lemon, sugar maple’s tangerine,
red oak’s crimson tides, undulating across the hills-
    aspen’s delicate wisp; acorns rolling underfoot,
         hickory melting on the tongue, Monarchs taking wing
and you, here, to take it all in with me.

Nothing this good can stay, so proclaims Frost- but I say,
  “Do let’s try!”- come run with me and play,
        outside, while caramel afternoons prevail- this heart
needs reprieve from its cycle of desuetude, so enjoy,
    October’s sapphire and wheat days while they last,
and make me believe, once more…

That gold can last forever, and that the dazzling hues
    of autumn will be captured in your memory as the color
of my hair, and I’ll hold onto October skies in your gaze,
         while the grasshoppers wind down, dew burdens the grass,
and berries paint the earth, scarlet, the very shade of
    my growing desire for you.

Help me trust that gold can stay, and make me feel
   I deserve to be overwhelmed in something
so beautiful as the golden season in New England,
    just, for once, letting it all surround me in clouds, in swathes
          of spectral, shimmering, fiery evening glow-
Wrap me in that quilt of flowers and bring the harvest to my door.

 

Author's Note

free flowing- wasn't sure where this was going to end, been thinking about it a few days, guess it was meant to be written for someone after all!

Reviews

[Kevin Vorshak]

I so want to experience the fall in New England. I love the Spring and Fall. I had the opportunity once to go to Quebec in early October for a job and travel along the St Lawrence and cross St Catherines Bay. The trees started to turn, making calico colored hills. I truly want to experience that in America. Someday, I want to experience it, to stay in a bed and breakfast and drive through the countryside. I just thing that would be so cool. This is wonderful writing Marie. You capture this beautifully.

[An owl on the moon]

I do believe Autumn is my favorite season, and you vividly capture the image, scents, and feel for us so well here! Line upon line is filled with such golden beauty... I didn't want this to end! This was one of so many lines that stood out to me: "October's sapphire and wheat days while they last, and make me believe, once more�" Amazing piece!

[Orlando Murcia]

All I can tell you is that this
was such a beautiful poem

So many colors in words
such a peaceful flow with
beautiful words written in your
description of excellence

Amazing job!!!

Orlando M

[:)]

This is enchanting...I love the comparison to the seasons of England with the stages of love...Possibly just a summer love even?

You want to be spared for once from your usual cycle of being thrown back to the fishes. For once you want to be held timeless in someones eyes. Something everlasting must exist, so you hold on to the idea with all you have left.

The last line is my favorite. You bring understanding to the beginning imagery by bringing it up again.. I do hope this beautiful harvest will happen for you. An everlasting one where no one will take you off your airy cloud....