I love the poems of autumn. The season of mists and fruitful harvest. The season of colour as the growth slows and the true hue of leaves and stems are seen as the green recedes. I wanted to write a poem about autumn but so many had already been done and it seemed the subject was well covered, if not done to death perhaps. Then as I drove towards home one afternoon I saw an avenue of trees backlit by a glowering dark sky with rays of sunlight bouncing off it. The autumn colours stood out at their most vibrant for just that few moments. And so I found a way to write about the glory of autumn without being completely repetitive.
Bards who praise the autumn
For its glorious display.
And speak in rhyme
To lionise the shortening autumn day.
And tho’ they are each and all,
Much better men than I.
The thing they all neglect in rhyme
Is the plain, backlighting sky.
They glorify the colours
The floating scorched cascade.
The leaves that drift and dance and fall.
In rag tag ornate parade
But they seldom talk about
The stage that makes, so vibrant every hue
That frames the glowing autumnal show
In deep grey or startling blues.
To see the scarlet and the bronze
Against a back of softest grey
Or copper colours blown about
On a clear blue sunny day
And see the feathery ash
With the mighty towering oak
In avenues ranked seven deep
In their rich Autumnal cloak.
But to see the colours of the fall
In all their vibrancy and might
Is to see them when the sky is black
With the glow of bright storm light
When sun bounces off the laden clouds
And gales blow to left and right
The leaves the poets dream about
Glow best then in bright storm light
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com