I love autumn, even though it’s a season of dying. There’s no ignoring the withering of vines and weeds, the fading light and deepening chill. Leaves cease gobbling up sunlight and chlorophyll breaks down. The green ripeness withdraws, revealing shades of canary yellow, pumpkin, and fire-engine red… before crisping to brown. How softly life let’s go. With a breath of wind, it drifts and returns to the earth. Nature is wise, isn’t she… to make this time of dying so beautiful? There are lessons in each of her rolling seasons. The graceful fall of Fall mirrors my experience working in hospice. If we are lucky we will spend our autumns like the leaves, in beauty and glory, bright and brisk of spirit, joyous and beloved… and let go with a whisper to dance on the wind.
I glide with the wind
in autumn’s celebration
gold and vermillion
a confetti of crimson
dying in graceful beauty
When I was eleven years old, I somehow got the idea that my family (and my best friend) should homestead on one of the uninhabited Aleutian Islands off the coast of Alaska.
Committed to my inspiration, I perched behind my dad’s old typewriter and with one finger, tapped out a list of everything we would need from 7 chisels and 50 hinges to 100 lbs of tuna fish and 30 sheep. Yes… sheep.
The four-page list is pretty funny. Apparently, I thought 15 rolls of toilet paper were sufficient for this adventure but wanted 200 bars of soap!
A few other items from the list (with conversions):
2 big bells
6000 packs of seeds
20 hair brushes
4 dog sleds
52 lbs of instant chocolate (23 kg)
400 lbs of chicken noodle soup (181 kg)
1000 lbs of tea (453 kg!)
The plan never got off the ground, but I saved the list all these years. You never know…
Once again, I’m giving Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge a try (honestly, it’s addictive). This time with a haibun/tanka. The prompts were (synonyms for) green and magic. I didn’t know if they were supposed to be in the haibun or the tanka, so I put them in both.
I spiral in a wisp of breeze, an airy fluff of seed unnoticed by the whorl of pollen shimmering in fat sunbeams. The fecund world undulates and exhales. Ribbons of heat flutter in the willow’s leaves and seduce the crickets into a sultry chant. Chaos dances with the bees, bearing me on my journey, I know not where. This masterpiece is woven of random notes and steps, yet, I perceive a conjuring of harmony, a sublime pattern of unfurling precision. I am meant to twirl in languid beauty to the earth.
Breathe a summer’s requiem
Spin me in the wind
As beguiled I pirouette
And await my spring’s rebirth