Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Season of Lost Dreams


At this time of year, when little birds talk travel and shadows stride too soon across golden afternoons, I think Eliot had it wrong.
Autumn, not April, mixes memory and desire.

Yesterday, the last petals fell from my white Yorkist rose - the one named Wedding Song, and from the Lancastrian red - the one called Blaze.
Fell and faded like a sigh.

Soon, the wild geese will arrow southward, Escher-etched against a dull and booming sky.
My Brothers, if you could only take me with you when you go.

Winter looms like years and I am at war with night.
I miss the light. Most of all.

33 comments:

anna said...

Already the island sky is criss crossed with jagged lines of geese. This time of year makes me melancholy,
the light of course, and the dread of what's to come. Where is that woman who watched the sky for snow?

Scott said...

My snowblower needs a little TLC, and my pool mocks me for my stubborness. I will not pay the man anymore.

Erik Ivan James said...

Ah, yes, Bernita. But a walk in a crisp moonlit winter night...that's heart-warming too.

Bernita said...

On sentry duty I think, Anna.

Do you resent imagery, Scott? Find it purple?

It's a Wolf Moon, Erik.

December Quinn said...

Mmmm...fall is my favorite season, but I do understand what you're saying. I think it's that wistfulness that makes it so special for me.

Bernita said...

The yearning and the regret, December.

S. W. Vaughn said...

Lovely! Beautiful picture, too.

Take heart in that the roses merely slumber.

(Are we all feeling nostalgic today, or what? :-)

jason evans said...

Beautiful words, Bernita. Thank you for the poetic touch this morning.

Bernita said...

Not sure, it may be a Wendy Popp illustration.

I think there is a place of sadness always situate in our minds, Sonya.

Thank you for the compliment, Jason.

M.E Ellis said...

I miss the light. Most of all.

I love this kind of style. Do it alot myself on first draft and it sadly gets edited out.

:o)

Bernita said...

Is that a gentle hint, Michelle?

MissWrite said...

I'm not sure about the punctuation of the last two sentences, but I sure did love that poetic piece. Echoed the most intimate of feelings inside, while I couldn't have said it better had I tried.

MissWrite said...

LOL, yeah, M.E. I wouldn't have 'outted' it, but I would have edited it. ROTF..DAMNED EDITORS!!

Bernita said...

Thank you, Tami.
I know wotyersayin' and I understand why - but it was deliberate ellipsis, not a careless fragment.
I can do that here.

Ric said...

as the wind turns northwest, the dreams and plans, so vibrant in their spring growth, green against the summer sky, turn crimson before fulfillment.

And dreams unrealized hang on tight, gleaming red in the waning sun, until they drop, forgotten, to sleep beneath the snow and rise again.

Ballpoint Wren said...

I miss the light, too. It's darker in the morning and getting darker early and... dang!

But arrr, Bernita darlin'! Stave off th' darkness wi' a wee bit o' swashbuckler humor!

Jaye Wells said...

Bernita, I am in awe of your poetic prose. When I try to write like that it sounds like I'm trying too hard to be deep.

Bonnie Calhoun said...

*sigh* I know what you mean, my hummingbirds, robins and swallows have deserted me for points south!

Er, I guess the swallows all congregate in Capistrano!

Bernita said...

Did I inspire you, Ric?

Bonnie Wren dear - that sounds suspiciously like another meme form!
My swash is buckled up at the moment, I'm afraid.

Just different styles and different miles, Jaye.
Thank you.

Ric said...

Not so much inspired but nostalgic. Autumn is what I missed most when I lived in Houston. Down there, fall is a November afternoon when the one leaf falls from an old oak tree. That's it, no prelude, no color, just that one damned leaf.
Now, I stand on the river bank, watch the leaves floating by, love it so much I refuse to rake them up.

The light is a wonderful perfect line. Editors would be wise to stay away.

Bernita said...

I miss them, Bonnie, when the vine outside my window is empty.

Here, Ric, some years the hills are banners and trumpets and spilled gold.

I understand the primal urge for Need-fire rituals in the dark of the year.

Gabriele C. said...

I love the melancholy of autumn, the sun veiled by soft mists, the smell of ripe apples, chestnuts in bedewed grass and the first frost rimming golden leaves with silver.

Here's for you.

One of the few autumnal poems I dare to translate. Some of may favourites are beyond my skills as translator - maybe beyond anyone's skill.

Bernita said...

Oh, Gabriele...thank you.
Your translation is very beautiful, and does it justice.

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Wahhh...all the morning glory vines have died too!

Bernita said...

This is a Virginia Creeper, Bonnie, which is trying to take over the house.

James Goodman said...

Ah, yes I normally dread the return of darkness. I love summer and all the activities it normally brings with it. For some odd reason though (probably because my summer ended early), this year I welcome it. The sooner it gets here, the sooner it's gone and by the time the last frost melts away, I should be back to using both feet.

Bernita said...

Amazing the number of things you will see that need doing when you can't do them, James. Lots of writing time though.

Shesawriter said...

I hate the summer. I hate the heat. Fall brings flies. Spring brings bees and other bugs. Give me the cool, crisp winter every day of the week.

Dennie McDonald said...

well pooh - my post dissappeared... I just said that fall is so much family time and with the high school across the street and the hubby in the industry he is in, football is quite the thing....

Jeff said...

Is it any wonder why I love visiting this blog?
Sometimes your writing give me chills . . . in a good way. :)

Marcail said...

Fantastic word pictures and conjuring of mood.

Marie said...

I love autumn and winter. I love the dark nights too. I feel much more creative around this time. In summer I get too irritated by everything. Like the heat, the insects and noise.

Bernita said...

An urban reaction, I wonder? You can have the bitter, bone breaking cold, Shesawriter!

That's very nice, Dennie.

Sweet of you, Jeff. Thank you.

Thank you, Marcail.Glad it worked for you.

True that night has less distractions, Marie. Much done in darkness fell.