Autumn's Voices

Autumn speaks in the wind, several voices
drifting by late on a September breeze.

Fireflies dance to the calliope.
Leaves skitter like so much ephemera.

The melodies are often intimate,
lyrical whispers of a confidante.

Suddenly she shouts---a termagant storm,
vicious, clamoring, distorted and raw.

In the cool evening, facetious and gay
she secretly chortles, an inside joke.

Tugging crimson ribbons from tangled hair,
she ties them out of reach, in a high limb.

Sesquipedalian conversations
are soon silenced by her chattering chill.

She flippantly speaks before spoken to,
although, few will offer any protest.

She celebrates her loved propinquity
Bowing out just before winter’s advent.

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A semi-structured spilled-words poem with ten syllables per line, written to include words from a list of a dozen favorites: propinquity, calliope, firefly, sesquipedalian, crimson, confidante, lyrical, facetious, ephemera, intimate, termagant, distorted.

Sevenling (I am simply)

I am simply a woman loosely defined as
mother, daughter, sister
identified by those I hold most dear

This shifting, changing life has turned me
inside, outside, upside-down
left me staring in the mirror, wondering

My forty-year epiphany: I despise roller-coasters.


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Check out the Poetic Form "Sevenlings" on Poetic Asides.

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