In movements through time
Autumn evokes the buried
Sleeping, but always there
We hear it in the sounds of rain
and the vagabond road
Let the silenced voice speak
Declare that autumn is the death
that enhances the existence of life
being flown off
on the wings in pursuit
of a persistent yearning
Often left in the hollow places of October
Where September’s fading blossoms once roamed
Illusive, tenacious, the yearning
Like a moth to light
A heap of broken images drifting
through the territory of dreams
Where lie memory and space
geography and time
All coming to fruition in the bounty of September
only to die in the cold hardness of November
Author Bio:
Susan Dale’s poems and fiction are on West Ward Quarterly, Ken *Again, Penman Review, Inner Art Journal, Garbanzo, and Linden Avenue. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan. She has two published chapbooks on the internet: Spaces Among Spaces bylanguageandculture.org and Bending the Spaces of Time by Barometric Pressure.
Autumn evokes the buried
Sleeping, but always there
We hear it in the sounds of rain
and the vagabond road
Let the silenced voice speak
Declare that autumn is the death
that enhances the existence of life
being flown off
on the wings in pursuit
of a persistent yearning
Often left in the hollow places of October
Where September’s fading blossoms once roamed
Illusive, tenacious, the yearning
Like a moth to light
A heap of broken images drifting
through the territory of dreams
Where lie memory and space
geography and time
All coming to fruition in the bounty of September
only to die in the cold hardness of November
Author Bio:
Susan Dale’s poems and fiction are on West Ward Quarterly, Ken *Again, Penman Review, Inner Art Journal, Garbanzo, and Linden Avenue. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan. She has two published chapbooks on the internet: Spaces Among Spaces bylanguageandculture.org and Bending the Spaces of Time by Barometric Pressure.
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