With all fancy hope of spring
at last returning, you'd think
happy thoughts of daffodils,
iris, would fill to the brink
and overflow. And yet loss,
now, is the cause of season
change escaping much notice.
Loss, and choice, without reason.
Late I noticed October's
charm, forever embedded
in memory, twisting round
my heart, once found, not wedded.
This is for Pirate Grace, in response to her last form challenge for the Real Toads. (Boo.)
Oh, Marian this is achingly beautiful! The words you've chosen work so very well together. This line really strikes me:
ReplyDelete" And yet loss,
now, is the cause of season"
I really like the way loss and cause sound together! Great job!
This is really really great...love it!
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful...I love its ending
ReplyDeleteI love the way your enjambment breaks the strict flow of the form, forcing the reader beyond the first stanza. Your subject is one of which I never tire - the changes of season and time, and what remains the same.
ReplyDeleteSo much change, so much wistfulness (word?).
ReplyDeleteword.
ReplyDeleteYour words always touch me.
ReplyDeleteYou leave just the right amount of wiggle-room to allow the words to implant in others' hearts.
This is wonderful. You've really created beautiful images with your words.
ReplyDeletethank you, friends xo
ReplyDeleteI now find myself torn between a nice cool glass of lemonade and a warm slab of pumpkin pie. It's a common enough dilemma to be sure, just not one usually brought upon by reading your blog.
ReplyDeletewell, obviously you have not been reading my blog enough. better work to fix that!
ReplyDelete