Thursday, October 22, 2009

Sunday, September 27

Here the trees are rusting just
a little sooner than last year, a little
brighter shades against the clear
blue sky. The way the leaves age
and crumble away just so, and how
nothing is quite the same as this
brisk midday || passed your way.


Glynn said...

"...the trees rusting a little sooner..." Loved the words, Dave. I could smell the autmun smell of the leaves.

Fred Sprinkle said...

very nice! I like the "brisk midday || passed your way". It adds a great twist to the end

Jory M. Mickelson said...

You have some strong images going on here and I get your message. I see it repeated three times in the poem.

Your first four lines are near perfect iambs and then line five throws a major loop into the sound. I would examine how to break up your perfect iambic march before line five so it isn't so hard on the ear.

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