Colors of Transformation

rainbow-leaves

I loved in the fall
And my heart was broken.
I healed through the winter and the spring.
Summer came,
With its heat and its memories,
Wrapping it hot sweaty arms around me
Reminding me of the summer of passion,
the summer before.

This fall is full of transformation.
My life transformed,
Barely recognizable.
As if the maple tree turned purple
Instead of deep brilliant red
Like the blood coursing through veins
Older, and wiser
The old pain is old hat,
Insignificant.

Love, love will always be.
The colors of the leaves
Are the colors of the rainbow.
The colors of love
Remain the most brilliant.
The cacophony of color
Announces the transformation of life.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Imges.

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The Days Before The North Wind

It’s a late summer’s eve.
The only sounds
A child’s laughter,
crickets singing,
Leaves rustling on the tiniest breeze.

Summer meal on the table,
BBQ, corn on the cob
Fresh tomatoes and cucumbers.
Must be August.

Farm stands full
of things just picked today.
Melons and peppers,
Apples and peaches.
Pumpkins soon dot the ground.
The harvest underway.

The days grow shorter.
The laughter retreats inside the cozy warm house.
The leaves crunch underfoot,
And fires ignite in back yards pits to ward off the chill.

The leaves soon will turn
To red and gold and orange.
In a breeze it will rain leaves.
In a still sky, they will crunch underfoot,
come into the house attached to feet.

Think of me as the leaves fall.
I will miss the autumn,
The days of clear cool air
Before the north wind blows.

But when it blows, hard and steady,
Come see me then, my friend
In a land of endless summer.

 

Who Knows?

Autumn in full glow

The leaves in day glow colors

Love in bloom

Vibrant

Full

Expectant with color

Emotion.

Life, full and rich.

Until the bitter cold wind blows through

Ripping the leaves off their tenuous hinge.

Throwing them to the ground,

To wither, and die.

The leaves, still full colored,

Lay on the ground

Blind-sided by that cold bitter wind.

Their luster already fading.

They disintegrate into the earth.

The devastation is complete, thinks the cold wind.

What was, will never be again.

But love never dies.

Transformation begins.

With transformation comes something new

And maybe more beautiful.

Who knows?