Chicagoetry: Longshadow

Longshadow

Every fall
I pretend I'm tall,

Lingering in the garden
Just after dawn where
Every long shadow is

A partial eclipse
Of the lawn.

Summer's short lease
Is waked by a
Blood moon over

The black lake,
Then begins
The earthbound borealis

Of gorgeous death:
"Triage in the foliage!"

Shocking gold,
Shimmering pink, burnt auburn
And beyond,

Silent fireworks
Whose brilliance sustains,
A heat-less conflagration

Undaunted by the wind-chilled
Rain.

Here's the simple refreshment
Of change: the lowering sun
Re-boots the light,

The ground more yellow,
The sky more white
(Like cream in blueberry tea).

Arrange the gourd,
The maize, the
Cinnamon bound:

In ritual we reify
What was lost, what was found,
What was never around.

Laments both sacred
And mundane: where went love?
Who lost life?

I wish I was taller, thinner,
Had more discipline at dinner,
Then the recurring dream

Of the return to campus,
For the protected realm
Of the mind, and the loin.

Indeed:
"The promise of new love . . .
Mingled with pain,"

A harvest
Of things
And experiences,

An all-too-brief
Pause to gather,
To savor, to witness

And to mourn.

In every turning leaf
A lifetime of accumulated
Grief.

I say:

Savor quaint pleasures
Before they pass
Because the pain

Is what tends to last.
Joy dies fast

And will fall
Like a leaf -
Like a life -

Back into the earth.

Now: A sturdy boot,
A layer of wool,
The belled and tasseled cap

Of the Fool.

Every turning leaf
Inures; another churning year
Steadfastly

(Unwittingly?)

Endured.

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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood's poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.

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* Chicagoetry: The Book

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* Kindled Tindall: The Novel

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