changing seasons

It was merely a faint whisper, after all

    surely lost in the twist of inimical winds

a final sigh deeply scoring words unspoken

held within a velvet trembling

 

as late blooms of summer’s end

tuck their heads to a shortening sun

    petals tighten

against the advancing chill of what ifs

and probably nots

 

It is not in the silence.

 

For I know of the blank

and empty spaces of quietude

. . . of the spent colours of hope drifting

as Autumn leaves

to the steel grey of wet sidewalks

 

It is but in the absence.

 

      A deficit so pristine and undone

sodden with the promise of starlight

muted by winter snows accumulating

    hitching to the hem of my blue jeans

. . . once upon a changing season.

Reviews

[Forest Green]

There are no stop gap measures in the seasons. No lines in the sand. No clauses or adjectives or metaphoric phrases. We press them onto what is a marvelous continuum of blends and ruffles and reasons. Never will we contemplate this day or that day without knowing the other days that came and went and hide and seek were all a part of this day.

I think your poem seeks the changing of time and moments, to give them credit for moods and flavors. And I think it does that very well. It is true poetry. A spiritual walk. A pause in the chase of time. Very enjoyable, Jill.

Daniel

[J]

your reviews are always remarkable -- full of thought, insight and much kindness. quietly you teach and with your comments, elevate my writing to something special. thank you, daniel. x

[Forest Green]

You're welcome and it is a favorite.

[J]

:) sweet!

[Sami Khalil]

"It is not in the silence.

For I know of the blank
and empty spaces of quietude
. . . of the spent colours of hope drifting"

A splendid read and writwe...Thank you for sharing...:).................

[J]

many thank yous, sami! :)

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome...:)......................

[Arthur Henn]

This is crisp! This is faint as a sweet whisper.

[J]

awww sweet. thank you, arthur :)

[Gomer LePoet]

Now I know what Sandy was talking about in relating his thoughts on your poetry. You do paint a picture so elegantly, with the wisdom of a true poet. This is refreshing when you see most of the drabble, including mine, etched upon these walls. Thanks for sharing. (:)

[J]

oh goodness, you are so kind, thank you for such lovely comments. but i do beg to differ re your own thoughtful work, dear poet. it takes courage to post your heart for all to see, and you've a wonderful heart indeed. :)

[Ed Hart]

the hardest thing in the world is to see beyond the history of our heart, and be content with all the rest

[J]

i would call that the Big "C". elusive little sucker. thank you, my friend. your words settle upon me like truths i should already know. but i've always been a bit s.l.o.w. haha

[emmajoy]

'It is but in the absence' .. a sadness of joy perhaps, dear Jilly. You write so softly that even the steel grey of wet sidewalks are beautiful sparkles of hope.

Only your words could paint '.. as late blooms of summer’s end ~ tuck their heads to a shortening sun.. '

[J]

thank you, lovely. your thoughts are as golden as your smile. :)