News

News: Since April of last year I have managed to accomplish several monumental things in my studies, but I update you now to tell you that three nights ago I had the best sleep since I last visited my aunt's house (years ago) and probably will never have another good sleep like it for years to come *nods sagely*.

--12 March 2017 --

Quote: I really dislike how glasses slide down your nose impetuously when you're glaring down at your unfinished work. -Me

The Fellowship

September 1, 2012

{Falling to Autumn}

I was searching and searching and searching for this poem I wrote several years ago, but I couldn't find it :/ However! I scoured my email and finally located it, deep in the bowels of the interweb :P I'm so happy! This is one of my absolute favourite pieces I've ever written in my entire life. I like to resuscitate it every September, because I get all excited about autumn and such :) [it is my favourite season after all]. So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you {Falling to Autumn}. Enjoy!

pinterest


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{Falling to Autumn}


The burgeoning bigness of blackberry bushes, bearing their bountiful produce;
The crisp, tarty apples with skin taunt as balloons,
Billowing wind blowing through branches, pushing aside twigs and turf.
Sagebrush and rosemary, stinging the senses, pressing the pilgrims away to new homes;
Abundance! abundance! the wood lark cries: abundance in baskets from harvest.
Brushing the grains into great empty vats, soon to be filled with fresh goodness.
An oxen bellows, a bull grunts, each to the slaughter for Christmastime brunch:
Plentiful plentiful plenty of plentiful, much of the goodness to share and to hold.
Each to his own or all to each-other, merry-making their way from one barn to another.

The dank smell of rain on the shingles and windows,
Bristling the fur of the mangy mutt: mingling with mittens and mile-high mud pies;
Tinkering and pinging against the sills, slapping cold faces, pushing children inside.
Wallowing without whippoorwills and weasels a'taunting, under the whippletree awaiting winter,
Where tears turn to jewelry and hard hearts soften;
Slimy cold water descends in white elegance.

Colourful climate created in kindness, crushing the blazing inferno of summer,
Offering peace to the peasant and farmer
Caressing cold lips of flowers | in death,
Softly accepting exhalation of breath

All the trappings and furs, stockings and cloaks, donned in haste,
Removed from the cellars the best of the wine to soothe the worn souls of working mankind.
The turkey pulled out, its feathers let fly, pressed into the oven: served with squash pie.
Frost unfreezes and falls to the floor, like leaves ripping off of tree tops {galore,
The festivities resound, bing bang boom! Shouting off: fireworks rush up, a crescendo in bloom!}
And when all this has past and the past is behind, then reality sets in with fall to co-sign
A mandate of life such as never before (birth, growth, death) they, in part, are responsible for.
Falling to autumn, breath exhaled; thanksgiving of bounty, cold beauty unveiled.
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Signed with wind, 

Squeaks.

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