Friday, August 31, 2012

Morning chill

A stiff breeze
Blows through
My bedroom window
As I wake
Chilled with just
A tease of changing season
I used to fear fall,
Back to School sales
Leading to the dead of winter
Scolding teachers
Painting bleak futures
For those who did not
Follow all the rules
I learned to love it
Seeing passed the changing leaves
Even though my favorite
College professor
Said age would teach me
To fear it again
And the more permanent
Chill later years
Would bring,
but time hasn’t bent me
filling me with any more
respect for rules,
it’s the change,
the fading away
of one thing for another
and that brief cool time
when old wounds heal
under a crust of snow
all presumptions
like old leaves
turned to earth
from which other things
better things
can spring up from
in the spring

Al Sullivan's webpage

1 comment:

  1. this is what "poetry" is all about... so beautiful. one of my favorites.