People love autumn,
or so they say. Colors speak
a lover’s lingo.
That tree turning red
recalls your best sex ever.
The jogger passing
through the park—-so lean,
so clean, so fit, so alone—-
was gone by daybreak.
No laughing matter,
then, Autumn has other plans.
It’s ridiculous.
We kick the fallen
leaves. They return to the ground.
That is the most fun.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: Tom D'Evelyn
Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
View all posts by Tom D'Evelyn
