Within the Poems of Autumn

Photo by S. Zeilenga
Photo by S. Zeilenga

When autumn comes, I look back 
on the trail I’ve just followed, 
hoping to find out where I’m going 
while becoming lost in the loneliness
of where I’ve been. Here and there 
I see my footprint pages, those wandering 
thoughts and feelings about this, that, 
me and you I didn’t know I’d left behind 
until I looked back. Back where I was lost.
The maples, in their majestic magic, 
drop their poems, too, allowing 
today’s skies to grow within their branches
with each beat of the wind, showering 
us with the color and aroma of something 
leaving the trail toward tomorrow 
to a leaf-lined tomorrow, shushing our 
sad memories to wind-swept whispers, 
and keeping our secrets between 
the journal pages  they safeguard 
beneath their shadowy hands. 

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