Sound Pollination

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Brooklyn, NY United States

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Some Autumn Poetry

“Autumn Sonnet” By Jon Lloyd

Each second leaves fall one by one to ground, 

And languidly caress their neighbours one 

By one, as if in fond farewell. The sun 

Still smiles, but weakly now, as though it’s bound

By Autumn’s spell. Its rays make plumes of steam

Rise gently off the grass, and now and then

A bird’s sweet song bewitches me again.

All else is silent like as in a dream.

I love this time, when all drifts off to sleep.

And nature’s palette fades to softer hue.

The ground now crunches brittle ‘neath my feet

In just the place where once the flowers grew.

But flowers, I admit, I love you too, 

I long for Spring to bring you life anew! 

“A Portrait of Autumn” By Patricia Gale 

Golden amber red slowly sailing to the ground

Nothing heard … just the sound of hope

Rustling in the breeze

As the branches wave to a greet me to an autumn day

The magical rhythm of the season

Breathing in the crisp northern air

A hawk glides on the currents high above

The will to move... leaves me

I am captured in autumn’s portrait

Alone within a masterpiece

A sound comes from the distance

Rustling in the leaves he makes his appearance

A full crown graces his head

Mighty buck and his harem

Slowly clearing the way for his entourage

I dare not move for the beauty has stunned my soul

They move with elegance and grace 

He senses I mean no harm for I am filled with peace

My mind clear and my heart filled

I sigh and whisper … Thank You for this day

“The Heat of Autumn” By Jane Hirshfield

The heat of autumn

is different from the heat of summer.   

One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.   

One is a dock you walk out on,   

the other the spine of a thin swimming horse

and the river each day a full measure colder.   

A man with cancer leaves his wife for his lover.

Before he goes she straightens his belts in the closet,   

rearranges the socks and sweaters inside the dresser

by color. That’s autumn heat:

her hand placing silver buckles with silver,   

gold buckles with gold, setting each   

on the hook it belongs on in a closet soon to be empty,   

and calling it pleasure.

 Autumn Leaves” By Philippa Lane

we rake them into pyramid pyres, 
our satisfaction glowing like the flame
with which we light them.

we watch them smolder and consume, 
and flirt with summer's memory, 
whose ghost arises from the charred remains.

but on the leaf-cleared ground next day, 
we stand unsure of our suburban ritual, 
our sense of order questioned

by the pungent smell of conscience
lingering in the air
long after the cremation 

we now illogically regret and mourn. 

“Neighbors in October” By David Baker

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon 

with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting 

chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke. 

Down the block we bend with the season: 

shoes to polish for a big game, 

storm windows to batten or patch. 

And how like a field is the whole sky now 

that the maples have shed their leaves, too. 

It makes us believers—stationed in groups, 

leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters 

over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone, 

bagging gold for the cold days to come.

“Beginning” By James Wright

The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.   

The dark wheat listens.

Be still.


There they are, the moon's young, trying

Their wings.

Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow

Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone

Wholly, into the air.

I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe

Or move.

I listen.

The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,

And I lean toward mine.

I hope you enjoyed these on this Autumn day!

Send me your favorite autumn poems and I’ll add them here on by blog!