*ahem* Pardon my waxing romantic... Anyway, on to the poem! Hope you all enjoy it, and may it give you a seasonal chill or two... (and if you're familiar with my poems and think Abigail sounds familiar, that's because yes, this is the same Abigail from 'The Lover's Return'...connect those dots, y'all.)
Photo credit: Peter Hellebrand
On Becoming Autumn
We had always wished for autumn. Too weaned on tempest
and raven to sate with summer's array, my Abigail and I
lived for the gloom of fall. Even as summer crawled a goldenrod affront
across the floor of thickets better tended by autumn,
our hearts would swell for the ash-backed horizon,
the breeze too wet with rain and rotting auburn
to be anything but the flame-fingered flourish
we spent every summer looking forward to.
Beneath October's bruising sky, Abigail
glowed a moon azure-eyed and waxen,
the rain-bowed crescents of her gaze
a sight I came to carry under mine,
reminding from the dark of sleep
how we always wished for
always wanted this decay.
But when something gan to creep
sable tendrils underneath her breasts,
gave their feebled rise and fall a tinge
like fall's putrescent plumage, I clasped
to myself she more precious than a season.
Abigail, what comfort these vermilion boughs
without you, without the hands grasped beneath
their shade? We always prayed for autumn but God,
spare me the cruelty of so tangibly granting our wishes…
my Abigail, collecting that bruise-dappled sky under skin
the weeks have whittled to something wont of fallen foliage.
Tell me you'll never leave me, that you'll be here when I wake.
Tell me this sleeping autumn isn't all I ever wished for.