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The Web Poetry Corner - Ronald G. Auguste - IN THE AUTUMN OF MY LIFE

IN THE AUTUMN OF MY LIFE

by

Ronald G. Auguste

(For Ned Mullan)

Now, in the Autumn of my life,

I can't remember all that sang in Summer;

But Spring -- its Spring --

Is still a vibrant thing!

I see the green grass rich in rain.

I see the rising suns place gems

In dews of morning,

And scatter diamonds

In the spiders' silken tents.

I see the setting suns drop shades

On languid hillsides,

And cover up the whispering seas

With changing tapestries.

I see bright fishes leap --

They leap and shine --

How quick!

Their scales reflect the silvery sunlight.

I see black song birds in the crickets' fields,

Seeming to come and go in pecking order;

And paper hawks,

Sweeping the skies on bamboo wings --

Strange birds,

With dancing tails,

Floating through air on strings of cotton....

I see the mango trees,

In green and fragile gold,

And they seem poor and barren,

Empty in my sight,

Though laden with a wealth of coming sweetness,

Coming juice,

Yet to evolve from countless beads

Of yellow, bee stung flowers....

I see a boy, as if on wings,

Moving in sun,

Running in rain and showers.

The late Spring of my life was such a joyful time!

Love was, and is, an orange;

I, a pear -- Good fruit --

From whose sweet seeds two seedlings grew.

They grew ... they grew ...

In nurtured soil,

I see them grow,

Leaves finely veined,

And soft and bright,

Translucent in their sunlights, all aglow!

Sweet Spring led to bright Summer --

The Summer of my seasons --

The Summer of this life ...

I can't recall ... well ... hardly ...

Vaguely ... not at all ...

Except in broken fragments,

Of bright and broken days,

And broken dreams of broken hopes,

In sweltering broken nights....

The younger seedling, broken --

Crushed! --

In my bright Summer ...

Broken during his early Spring,

Before the season of his blooming.

Broken and shattered,

In his Spring,

By a society,

Drunk,

Entombing.

Broken,

A rising sun,

My son,

Whose shattered rays

Deepen the glooming....

O Lord,

It is so hard to bring again to life

A shattered season.

A shattered season -- memories lost....

Yearning to bring, at any cost,

Back into form,

In this,

The cheerless,

Sunless Autumn of my life....

So often must I clear dim visions through my wife.

The Autumn of my life is not yet kind.

It is being hot.

It is being cold.

But there's some joy, as I grow old.

A sprout,

In his bright Spring,

Leading to brighter Summer,

Has borne fine blooms,

Which bore fine fruit --

Fine blooms, fine fruit --

That yet may ease the sorrows of my Summer....

I hope

That I shall see

Leaves

Autumn

Die,

In vibrant tones....

I hope the Winter of my life

Won't be like early Spring,

Less stepping stones....

I feel my Summer's loss --

Loss of my younger seed --

Deep in my bones....

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Washed By Slow Wakes
by: Frank Valentyn
from: Johannesburg, Gauteng, South Africa

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