Saturday, October 29, 2011

iPhone Diaries #428: "Hostas on the front yard"

Hostas, a boring drab green and white in the summer, "come to life" in the fall, exploding in colours as the leaves "die down" for the winter. Hostas on the front yard ringed with frost.
Autumn is like an old book;
Marred spines turn mean yellow,
staples rust red-orange.

Every stained page is stressed
by a splat of color. Rough-red
like an old tavern,

we become hungry birds
and prepared for fall.
Shape and shadow are candied citron

as a lantern turns bitter yellow. Autumn
is a red fox, a goblet filled with dark wine,
a hot chilli pepper with smoky eyes.

Pressed leaves take in the colors
of seafood paella and saffron; these leaves
are like death, climaxing with a smile.

Autumn: her dress is a net of mussels;
dark shelled, it covers up
summer's weatherbeaten body.

So pull out your boots
and stand on an aged, wood floor
like an evergreen.
"Autumn" by Mary Hamrick
                                              Oct 29th.

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