Frost Under My Skin

A Vision of Leaves

Oh to describe the leaves sparkling around me—
Chased out by the rain, falling all twirly.

I too am chased by the rain as I walk
But now I will pause to hear the leaves talk.

They whisper as they flutter and dance to the ground,
Giggles and gurgles, frolics abound.

How I wish I could capture this “vision for thieves”;
But they are not blueberries, just ripe autumn leaves.

Could I injest them, I certainly would,
But rain chases me off from where I have stood.

Do I only dance when chased by a storm?
When wind and rain nudge me off my platform?

Do I risk the freefall as a faceted jewel?
Or stay comfortable in my tree hoarding wood for winter’s fuel?

As I leave the enchantment of this leafy snowfall…
One lights on my shoulder then commences to fall…

Yet whispers something as it rests a minute:
“Keep dancing and twirling…the sky is no limit!”

Given to me on my walk as I entered a leafy snowfall near the intersection of Korner Rock Rd and Inland Dr.

I’ve been reading a generous allotment of Robert Frost’s poetry lately. It sets my mind to thinking in rhythm and rhyme. The way he puts words together, like paint on paper, gets under my skin and begins oozing out, especially on my walks.  Perhaps it’s the regular rhythm of footfalls, or the infusion of nature around me…I dunno.  If Frost’s poetry is indeed like “frost”- that shimmering stuff on chilly mornings, crisp and solid; then my attempts are only dew- not quite set…like jello that hasn’t set yet.  I’m ok with this.  The fun is in the words.  I don’t labor them too much.  I told my husband that they just come to me…like the leaves falling around me.

0 thoughts on “Frost Under My Skin

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *