Window cracked, wind hushed in her siege. She hearkens me, her tender voice whistling. Airy caresses, awaken me soft. I walk o’er the hearth, and peek out the loft. Over the blossoms, of a lingering spring, A new color washes, the old color themes: O' pumpkin and maple, amber and gold. Her change is so young, but her beauty is old. Lo, Fall’s veil hath lifted, Blessed bride of our fords. O' feld wedding so vivid, how God doth adorn! I ponder His wonder, I remember a scene, Timeless Tara agleaming, in a dusk silver screen. So I bestow her that name, mine antebellum moor, As the wind swans her song, swooning off toward shore.
Author’s Note
One of the greatest challenges in writing, especially shorter works, is finding the right words (and prose) that elicit a sought feeling and emotion. In this poem, I sought one of a timeless nature, which is inextricably attached to my memory. These feelings can often be difficult to explain, let alone attempting to reawaken them for a reader without images, sounds, or scents.
All I have here…are words.
Here, I wanted to capture the essence of seasonal nostalgia—those early fall weather changes coming of age that seemed to coalesce with a mindset materializing endless possibilities of future dreams and falling in love.
Even though youth has its unique upsides (obviously), the feeling that early Fall evokes remains unchanged. This time of year still has a profound impact for me when I slow down to ingest a serene, magical moment living within the beautiful gestures of God’s natural Earth.
Every year, those perfect Fall mornings, afternoons, and evenings carry a gift that reminds my old soul, I am still a young spirit, like the days of vivacious youth when and where anything and everything is possible.
I know weather can be frightening, like hurricanes and tornadoes, but the good nature of it, which reaches back to God’s original design, dances with us in a remarkably sentimental and mysterious way.
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