Autumn Dirge

Baseball’s over
and the olive tree mourns
with faded colors falling
into rain wet ground,
forgiving the hope
of soft air and summer nights,
no wanting but warmth
as the sun drops south
and winter approaches.




Autumn Dirge


7 Responses to “Autumn Dirge”

  1. Not only is baseball over, but your Mets lost… a dirge indeed. Hope forgiven as winter approaches… 😀

  2. Tom Figel says:

    I like the poem, Don, and then Lloyd Meeker’s dig.

  3. Pichay says:

    The environment around me, Don, is way ahead of you. My rapture is of this gorgeous 5″ blanket of snow, compassionately covering the road gutters littered with beer & soda cans, coffee cups, cigarette butts, etc.; blessing the air atmosphere with stillness of Harley straight pipes roaring at high rpm, to be heard by drivers for safety, they say; and disappearance of the homeless from doorsteps. I accept all this with enjoined compassion as I make my way to the athletic club to watch 5-6th grade boys and girls playing basketball in so beautiful innocence, a sadness for having no grandchildren wetting my eye. We plant the seeds we came to plant….walking the Buddha Way.

  4. Maria Frid says:

    My sun drenched body has begun to fade into a milky white. My heart belongs to the sun and the beach. As I approach the cold nights and wintery scenes, I talk to myself convincingly, time for football!!! Love your ditty, Don!

  5. David Barnes says:

    Ahhh yes Don – thank you for what you initiate here, the feeling memory of season’s past, and the presence to be awake and alert to essence of this new season’s upward climb, even now ascending in my soul as I watch and hear the leaves and rain descend – and today I inhale the fragrance of promise invested in the descent and decay of that which must also some Day ascend in Glory through me, through Her, through all of us together – such is the Cycle of the Seasons of the Holy Earth as it moves within the Cosmos. Gratitude.

  6. David Banner says:

    Tells the tale of cyclical change beautifully….

  7. Bob says:

    Baseball just retreats into our hearts, retrenches until the face feels a warm sun and the eyes see a green field. … What, a yankee fan giving you comfort?!

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