A Walk In Autumn

In a quiet way she speaks…

“You know dead is beautiful

this time of year?”

Her words, while never meaningless

puzzle me often.

and if we weren’t lovers

not soul companions

just strangers passing.

I, with an open ear would have thought

her mind strange.

Her prose foolish and preposterous.

Chuckling gentlemanly to myself

I’d make a note to remember

for such an offbeat lyric would most certainly

make me king of conversation

at evening debauchery

amongst the paupers of intellect.



But I do know this woman

much as a lover

ever more deeply as my friend.

Our walks go as such from time to time

where two uncommon souls bond

over the serenity of leaves falling

sweet smells of fresh baked honey bread

and steamed cinnamon cider.

The laugh of the wind

that will be fiercely howling

soon enough

makes us comfortable today

as we go about wearing out

our soles.



It is ever a wonder

how an overcast sky could

bring so many out

not to dampen

but uplift the spirit.

Nice speech from Heaven

that convinces one can be immersed

in the deep spiritual waters of love, peace and tranquility

without the benefit of a showering sun.



“Don’t you know dead is beautiful this time of year?”

Is a difficult statement to process.

Have the words been simply, unpretentiously framed?

Or is this the best in a mornings

first moments of observation upon a new day

that breaths itself through an open window?



Does it truly matter?



Not so much when the real wonder

is in everything about her and all that is around.

To hang on words is not as meaningful

as the act of being there

holding her hand and seeing

how kids playing in what falls from trees

conjures up the prettiest

smile.



On these, our poor man’s adventures

not too much is really ever spoken.

We are students framed

in this lecture of wonderful

poetry and there are so many

words and phrases

we wish not lost in repetition.

But as the moonlight has no fight

and true darkness begins to prevail

I am asked, in voice of loud whisper

“Will I write?” and

“What will it be called?”



As yet,

much inspiration derived

from the peace that has surrounded me

and the beauty of the company that

has kept me has already stirred the

pen to paper in the mind.

As my first idea

because everything has been for me

about harnessing and loving

the slowness of being alive

simplicity has overwhelmed the ego

so I shall call it…



A WALK IN AUTUMN.