Ode to Dying Autumn

An ode in the style of Neruda.  Posted in Real Toads Tuesday Platform and dVerse Poets Pub: Meeting the Bar.

Nocturne in Black and Gold 1875 – Whistler

ode to dying autumn
here on this final day
before the first heavy frost,
the sun blazes through the trees
like a roaring wildfire
burning away the leaves –
sky and clouds,
turning into pitch-black night
before this final night
when heavy frost falls –
the *river of heaven flows –
the tiny lights of the stars
reflect off the wings
of the ghost owl
gliding through the night.
The night is an explosion of black and gold –
a painting by Whistler.
The day dawns grey
and cold with frost covering all –
a veil of hoarfrost –
The year’s dying bride walks down the aisle
of the church of trees –
The cloud mother weeps at her child
going down that long aisle to the end –
her raintears wash away the colors
of the leaves like so much paint,
disappearing down the ditches –
the trees reflect off the street
like an Impressionist painting,
I stand and watch the leaves make their way
to the creek at the foot of the hill –
little dinghies floating on the water.
And now it is day.
the frost is gone.
the bride is gone.
Autumn has left the building –
Winter is waiting its cue to enter.
cold and rainy day –
leaves fall like rain – colors fade –
silence descends like snow

*river of heaven – amanogawa – Japanese for the Milky Way – it is a seasonal kigo for haiku