"Autumn's Final Curtain Call"
By Deb Lambert
Oh, how we marveled at the show
that headlined up north in September
and because of enthusiastic approval
by east coast audiences
was held over for several weeks
then kept moving south in new productions
of this same autumnal play
"Leaf Peepers" is what we call those
foliage aficionados,
connoisseurs of all trees golden and flaming
who travel in bands, like a roving audience,
arriving by the busload
to catch the season's last act
before the final curtain call
before the show goes on hiatus
for another year
and before the main characters take a
well-deserved winter sabbatical
But here we are, a captive audience
with box seat tickets for every performance
of every fall season that nature presents
and as the buses pull out, only we are left
to fully appreciate the oft' overlooked
true fall finale, as technicolor coats
fall unheeded, silently to the ground
coaxed from mighty trees by the
cold, wet hand of gray November
Only we are left to gape at the spectacle
spread like a carpet, upon which
our shod foot will tread
there, in the forest, upholstering the banks
of a meandering brook
in every imaginable autumnal hue
cushioning our footfall with
the incendiary shades of red
the gleam of polished copper
the astonishment of yellow
the noncommittal browns
the startle of orange
the astounding coronation gold
and serendipity of peach
In patterns conceived by
wind and gravity and
implemented by decisive November
these coverlets are stitched together
by a combination of evening dew,
frosty nights, sunny days and relentless rain
Persian rugs and patchwork quilts
pale in comparison to the flamboyance
of autumn's handiwork.
We watch, fascinated,
as errant foliage strays
into the undulating brook
swirling in the current
drifting away
destined not to upholster the bankings
nor carpet the forest floor.
This is the real autumnal encore
and long after those roving "Leaf Peepers"
have boarded the bus for home,
shall we revel in November's
final curtain call.
©Deb Lambert 2007
Monday, November 3, 2008
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2 comments:
Another of your wonderful poems. They are too few and far between.
Thanks for the compliment. In my defense: 1.)I'm a slow thinker. 2.)My poems may be too long, requiring more time. 3.)There are too many other writing projects taking precedence over poetry. 4.)Life, itself, intervenes and leaves little time for such creative pursuits. 5.)Maybe all of the above?
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