Late Autumn

This poem will appear in my new book of 80 poems, Memories of When We Were Birds, to be published this month by RedDashboard. The book chronicles the passing of seasons in northern Michigan, in the environs of Liminga.

 

Misery falls on our lives
at a slow drizzle
and seeps into sandy loam
until saturation
when it runs into ditches and
streams to the lake
which will suffice for now
but soon enough
cold winds across the lake
will gather it in
and dump it as endless snow
so we can watch
our misery pile up and measure it
in inches and feet
and pack it into men and women
to stand in the yard
for all to see how cold we feel

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About Ray Sharp

Poet, athlete, retired public health planner
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11 Responses to Late Autumn

  1. annotating60 says:

    Well written Ray. >KB

  2. othermary says:

    Oh, that’s just how it feels some days.

  3. Nice! I love it!! Wonderful imagery!! I’ve always loved winter in northern MI! 🙂

  4. brian miller says:

    to stand in the yard so all see how cold we feel…yeah…we all relate there…its cool and wet here tonight…typical this time of year…enough to seep into the bones…

  5. billgncs says:

    I wondered where this was going, but the last line really pulled things together

  6. claudia says:

    nice mix of elements and emotions here… and at a certain point, the misery surely gets visible..

  7. Tony Maude says:

    I’ve never been to Michigan – or anywhere in the Americas – but if you replace the sandy loam with peat, this could easily be the Scottish Highlands in winter (summer sometimes too).

  8. this sounds like a cold place.. and yes this could be Sweden as well… the snow will come..

  9. left me reaching for a sweater..’how cold we feel’ though not too chilly here yet, this put me in mind of the closeness of the cold damp of winter..good write

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