It is precisely this time, more/less
the pit opens, not underfoot
but close enough to catch you
with tricks of sunlight/shade
fallen leaves, sharp red
beauty, failing—
you can’t help
but glance
in
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It is precisely this time, more/less
the pit opens, not underfoot
but close enough to catch you
with tricks of sunlight/shade
fallen leaves, sharp red
beauty, failing—
you can’t help
but glance
in
Oh this is lovely and delicate like a falling leaf, the beauty of it boundless and yet contained in a moment. **
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Well, wow, thank you. Your comment is a poem 🙂
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Stepping into the darkness. It’s a dangerous time of the year.
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Yes, indeed.
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I felt as if the lines create the sense of falling. The pairings of more/less and sunlight/shade add to the off-kilter feel.
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Oh, cool, you give me a new way of looking at it. I love that.
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Ooh creepy. Having “precisely” and “more/less” together in the first line really sets up how precarious the situation is.
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Love that you saw that, thanks!
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Omg. That gave me chills! That was a perfect nonet, I think.
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Melony, you are the best cheerleader ever. Thank you.
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Lovely! I love fall, I “fall” for it every year even though the “pit” of winter follows. Maybe not what you meant, but what I love about your poetry, it speaks volumes in so few words.
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It’s definitely a bittersweet season. Thank you for your kind words.
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I like how you played with antonyms here and Ruby already beat me to the precisely/more/less idea. You worked those line breaks hard. My favorite is the sharp red/ beauty. It reminded me of cardinals.
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Thank you for noticing the line breaks. I think the form really lends itself to playing with breaks, punctuation, rhythm.
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‘sharp red’ – is this the point? There seems to be something soft running through this poem, but then this stab? I am up in Door County this weekend and the color changes are spectacular but I am not sure the red is anything other than sharp, as you describe. And as much as we want to think of them as happy, I have my doubts.
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If a stab, then of fear. Yes. Maybe it’s just human to have a dread (surface or hidden) of the dying of the year.
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