A Poem for the Day

November Has Come
Glorious autumn attire fades from the trees, greenish gold crisping to brown.
Periodic cascades of leaves twist and turn their way to the ground, seeming to lose their grip in groups as if afraid to let go alone.
Fall clouds are bolder, hanging separate from one another, still and aloof under blue infinity.

5 Replies to “A Poem for the Day”

  1. I think poetry is the truest form of revealing ourselves in artistic form, even more so than painting or photography, even biographical writings. I believe it is closest to a journal about who we are as writers and people even private journals…just a thought and I would love to know your thoughts on this.

    Darla, this piece is lovely, graphic imagery and thoughts spill out of it into me, without artifice. Congrat's on pulling that off.

  2. Eaton, what a generous comment from one so gifted as yourself! You are incredibly sweet. And as you so kindly remark on your wonderful blog, the kindest reply is a remark upon another blogger's posts. That I will address, always happy to view your amazing images. Yet I do feel compelled to address your query here. I agree that poetry can be a type of soulful exposure, but one which I feel hides my insecurities and frailties. Nature is so broad that we timid humans can hide in plain sight behind her changing beauty. I hope that makes sense, and inspires further conversation. Thanks again.

  3. Again I'd love to comment on the imagery of the leaves letting go in clusters. It's amazing, I never thought of it that way before but it is true you are very observant. And the aloof clouds under blue infinity, again very apt and evocative. I love that you share your gift so freely, Darla.

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