Fall has fallen
"Autumn came in my window
And kissed me on the cheek.
I awoke to the cool embrace,
Of an old friend
So I wrapped myself in the quilted warm memories
Of autumn."
With my head full of CS Lewis and having obtained a good night's sleep I reached the wood before sunrise and putting on my wadding boots walked in below the waterline.
A breeze ran through the tops of the trees sending leaves down all around me like confetti, "Hooray, the first day of autumn is here!"
The ground at me feet was crumbly and soft. Small insects flew up at my step while over head large spiders knit the trees together, sometimes creating walls through which I would not pass. Under the water mark the trunks, roots and branches took on new shape, becoming twisted and warped like the screaming bodies in a Salvador Dali painting. Tannic streams like tears from the tormented trees trickled past my feet. I was inside a fish bowl and it was a curious place to be.
CS Lewis wrote an entire book on finding joy. Where he found his is not where I find mine and not likely where you find yours.
Again the leaves fell like confetti.
I can't help but laugh. I must have been quite a spectacle out there, marching boldly through the half-dried swamp in my tall, dark boots, waving a stick before me like a sword, listening to the whistle as it sliced through air and web, and muttering endlessly like an undmedicated escapee. A regular ‘Bubba Quixote'!
Still the leaves fell like confetti.
An extreme number of snake encounters recently left me disillusioned with my ability to cope in this environment. I was determined to face my fears. I plunged in headstrong as always. It was exhilarating. Deeper I went, continuing my trek until I found my boots caked in slime, my hair covered in cobweb and sincerely wondering how anyone couldn't love this wonderful, fascinating habitat. As if to express joy at my return two raccoons appeared on the opposite bank clawing up the mud for clams and crayfish. I sighed.
I'm perched on a bank,
Leaves dot every surface like debris after a party
The woods are still now
And I linger like the hostess after her guest have left.
If you're interrested in my poems go to www.poetry.com and look for brenda l sapp.
