The Autumn Mail

And so it is the leaves
that but so recently fell
fall again unable to hold
to their reluctant limbs
bent to autumn’s wind

Just as it is that love
when it is young boasts
of such eternal tenacity
not that it cannot let go
simply that it will not

Our passions in time
turn into our patience
The embers in our veins
going to amber leaves
lovesongs never sung

til borne on a breeze
they fly from our arms
to sail without formation
envelopes unaddressed
without any postage

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About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to The Autumn Mail

  1. simply brilliant – especially passions-to-patience and embers-to-amber

    Like

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