Transition

tomorrow’s leaves are falling today --

dropping like stars from the branches of my tree,

not quite dying, but sick -- on the edge --

 

            the birds still roost in her naked boughs,

unwilling to give up their stick and mud homes,

until the last gray leaf has fallen

            and they are utterly exposed

 

I bear witness from the window as summer steals

the best of her bark -- no pouting plums upon my table

            this year --

her bowl remains empty, concave and clean

 

miracles are bees buzzing about my head,

and I am Saint Anthony of Padua, preaching to the fish,

with a voice undaunted by the practical nature of neutrality --

            I will find what has been lost

 

            in the air about this place, in the mist that hangs low

like a bride’s veil -- I will touch the weathered trunk of my tree

and give her back the will to turn gray to green, or at least

 

            the dignity to die in the arms of a friend

Reviews

[Astro]

My mother taught me so many years before of St. Anthony of lost socks and dreams. At least that's how I like to imagine him, standing above the shore peering into depths searching for lost remnants that wash up to the coast from sunken ships and times erosion of seaside villages. Whenever I had lost something she would say, "Pray to St. Anthony and you will find it." Somehow praying to Saints always seemed easier than praying to God(s), I think it is because Saints were once human, and their lives give way to inspiration, where God(s) remain a mystery and give less of a reassuring feeling to the person praying. I believe you bring up an important point in this poem about how life can begin to wither if enough care isn't taken to ensure it's blossoming. The last line of the poem is one of bitter sweetness, for even though something/someone will not die alone, it 'is' still death. There is a small typo in this line, "... in the mist the hangs low...". Let there be rejuvenation, for death is not so lonely that he needs more company just yet.

A very thought provoking read my friend.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, my friend...and thank you for catching the blunder of my quick fingers :)

[Astro]

It's that piercing eye I have in the middle of my forehead, it catches meaning and mistakes equally, lol.

[Shane William]

I love how moments of stunting clarity ~ "miracles are bees buzzing about my head, and I am Saint Anthony of Padua, preaching to the fish." ~ Still remain poetic when you write it. What a reference though! The saint of finding the lost. I have vague of knowledge of a handful of Saints thanks to my Grandfather, whose kind of a big poobah in the Knights of Columbus; vague because organized religion scares me! ^^

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you again, Shane! Lovely to see you here :)

[Traci]

in the air about this place, in the mist that hangs low
like a bride’s veil -- I will touch the weathered trunk of my tree
and give her back the will to turn gray to green, or at least

the dignity to die in the arms of a friend

Your last line really brought things into perspective for me, bringing out the most emotion. Your gentle soul and love for humanity shines in this piece, reminding us that we must nurture and care for the things around us because the transition of time and change is of essence.

Well done, Sarah, I truly enjoyed this piece.

[tyokon]

The second half of the poem stood out to me. The fourth stanza seemed like a change in the mood, it went from sad to hopeful. Hopeful for a miracle to save or improve a life, tree, or a dream. I thought the first line was interesting "Tomorrow's leaves are falling today." What did you mean by this? If they are falling today are they not already dead? How are they tomorrow's leaves?

[Kleio13]

Loyal write and down to earth

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, my friend.

[Clara]

I feel so privileged to read your words.
They always take me to a different place and time inside my head and it's always prettier there.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

You are so very kind...thank you so much! I am priveleged that you enjoy my words!

[Clara]

My pleasure!

[Corset]

o hell, how incredible is this?...every stanza perfection, I see that you have a book up on Amazon, you can rest assured i will be purchasing one, will email you...must have the autograph for when you are famous as you undoubtedly will be. I especially dug the lines : the birds still roost in her naked boughs,

unwilling to give up their stick and mud homes,

until the last gray leaf has fallen

and they are utterly exposed



I bear witness from the window as summer steals

the best of her bark -- no pouting plums upon my table

this year --

her bowl remains empty, concave and clean



miracles are bees buzzing about my head,

and I am Saint Anthony of Padua, preaching to the fish,

with a voice undaunted by the practical nature of neutrality --

I will find what has been lost


oh hush I know it's practically te whole thing,i would have put the whole thing but I have to pretend that i at least loved one part best :) I so loved the ending...

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so very much, my friend...I'm humbled by your review!

[Simon Welsh]

We never really find what's lost because time changes us all. I like this.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you Elliot...it's good to see you here!

[Joyce S. Greene]

When I waste a piece of paper I hear in my mind admonishments against killing a tree and I feel badly. The death of a tree is a personal affront to many and your poem describes the immiment death of a tree that belongs to the speaker, who wishes to give her friend, "the dignity to die in the arms of a friend" if she can not "give her back the will to turn gray to green," The soft sadness of your poem is very moving, Sarah. Extremely well written poety.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so much, Joyce.

[TL Boehm]

in the air about this place, in the mist that hangs low
like a bride’s veil -- I will touch the weathered trunk of my tree
and give her back the will to turn gray to green, or at least

the dignity to die in the arms of a friend

I am actually quite fond of autumn and crave a deep blue shrouded winter but this poem put an ache at the back of my throat and I almost cried and I cannot articulate why.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, TL...perhaps it was the bigger metaphor eating at your heart a little that brought out the emotion :) I appreciate that you had an emotional reaction to this.

[Baban.A.A]

first of all, I would like to praise the way you have wrriten this poem which is fantastic. there are days which die in front of our eyes and we cannot do anything about them. I count the time life easily takes from us since its hers, but still we as humans feel soryy for our loses although none are us. a very well written poem, best luck

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you so very much for the kind and introspective review. Your words are greatly appreciated!