Monday, October 17, 2016

Sunday Morning Write - Freefall

I cup the morning in my hands -
the sun rising on the back of the rooster’s blare,
the grass growing straight out to the barn
where a black cat explores the known world.

I hold the whispery sound of wings overhead
and the silly dither of earthbound hens.
Crow feathers slip through my fingers.
Red leaves, and orange,
green leaves and yellow crowd my fingertips.
Wisps of soft air float free.

My hands hold the smells of wood smoke
and damp earth, of dried grasses
and fallen leaves. I bury my nose
and inhale the universe as it turns,

loosening summer, setting autumn free,
welcoming winter. All this is here
in my cupped hands, holding one morning,
holding them all.


Out on the prairie said...

I laughed this morning when a squirrel ran with the blowing leaves into the forest, blending in so well.It has been a good year for color, but I need to get out and plant some bulbs.Fishing made me leave chores early today.

Barb said...

I look forward to a new poem by you or any writing for that matter. It's always unique, filling and overflowing the senses. Here at high altitude, we're having a bit of each season today - I walked in wind with my jacket zipped but sun warming my face.

Tabor said...

This is a singular piece. Lovely.

J Cosmo Newbery said...


Pauline said...

Thanks, all. I've been enmeshed in life and haven't been here in a while. I appreciate that you came to read and comment :)