Hot winds resurrect
a dead leaf
for one last fling.
I hear its dry scrape etch
across my window pane
like decrepit nails of some autumn ghoul
come to remind me of season’s soon turning.
Behind me is a gentle rumble;
the soft, rhythmic snoring
of a red beagle nestled
deep into her favored beanbag chair.
She’s getting old
but every now and then
she still wrestles her stuffed mouse toy,
growling and romping
in the crumbling vestiges of youthful games.
In winter there is no knowledge to gain;
no more passion to spend,
only cold silence, an awful stillness,
and no more memory
of summer.
Author notes
I have a red beagle. She is snoring behing me as I write this. I love that dog!
A contest entry
- & that is the noise of poetica[8hrs] by Ryno.
300 points, ended June 23, 5 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Excellent title. The last turn of the leaf to sail, the turn of the seasons, the turn of contemplation from past to present and future.
Delightful "autumn ghoul."
Outstanding description of your cherished beagle, poignant "crumbling vestiges of youthful games."
Sense of nearing a hollow of anticipated loss...the loved pet may reach her end of years, and leave the winter yet colder and more silent.
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Awesome!!!
great analogy
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You made me want to pet your red beagle.
Wonderful visuals in this beauty. Congratulations on your trophy. Excellent verse. ~Pamela 
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Yes, indeed that feeling of winter hurts. I'm so glad its summer now. It's very true in winter I always try to imagine what summer was like and can't. I really loved the ending and the haunting feeling of the beginning image, but found those a bit disconnected from the middle of the piece.
I really enjoyed this one and my relatability to it. Thanks for the entry
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The images and the sounds do resonate,
as does the title, turning our minds
to consider the changing seasons,
the lengthening of life,
appreciation of love
(as in the warm
feelings for
the beagle)!
Superb!!!!
Aesthete
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Yes, I, too, have often found that the tones of a snoring dog will carry the mind into realms of philosophic wonderment.
Wonderful ominous description at the opening and it was cleverly juxtaposed against the homey mood with the sweet picture of the dog. The leaf and the dog are, in fact, the same here. And the truth at the end has even broader application. I love that word "etched," both its sound and its implication of a LASTING sound, or impression.
And I love that you described the leaf's final floating as "one last fling", i like the abandon of that word--and it was so perfect to set that line off to itself to recognize its importance to the rest of the piece. It so perfectly describes both the leaf and the beagle deciding to muster the strength to wrestle the mouse once again, in final fits of pseudo-existential bliss! LOL. I am humored, but also stirred at the depth of thought. For, indeed, the poor little gal, though she may spend her efforts, is moved to "turn", eventually by another force outside herself-- time/age, death, her Creator--not unlike the hot wind that gives the leaf it's final dance and then turns chill or either ceases to blow, leaving the leaf lifeless.
I love the change back to the heavy tone at the end. It not only brings the reader back to thinking about the greater message of the poem, but offers a somber reflection upon seemingly "regular" events.
I also love the last line. Placed so skillfully at the end it serves two purposes as I read it. One, it takes the reader's imagination to a time that was not spoken of in the rest of the poem, letting us know that indeed there was a time when the dog was active, playful and rowdy. Happy and full. And thus, has greater purpose to "remind" us of the speaker's implied summer, and more hopefully an extended application to the reader's "summer." Second, to me, the way that last line come directly after "no more memory of. . ." leave the reader feeling that there was something wonderful lost, and an implied instruction to appreciate and experience more fully the summer while it is available. That's where my thoughts went, anyway.
The title is also so many wonderful levels of meaning. The obvious is the turning of the seasons. Could be the turning as of a page in time. Also, though, it causes me to reflect on the "turn" of the dog, as in her "nature", her usual behaviors. Is she a playful dog, is she a lazy dog? That sort of thing. Your poem signifies that there has been a "turn" in her "turn" and also indicates that soon her final "turn" is approaching. I am also drawn to the broader implied idea of "taking your turn," in other words, living life, the summer, to its fullest while it is still in season.
As always, your poem uses such readily understood imagery and here, story, to discuss truly significant thoughts.
You have turned out some excellent poetry.
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Your dog sounds adorable.
The title leaves so much intrigue--the turn of what...summer?
"Hot winds resurrect
a dead leaf
for one last fling."
I don't know if this was intentionally supposed to be funny, but it was while maintaining your usual level of eloquence.
"season’s soon turning."
There shouldn't be an apostrophe in 'seasons'...nothing is possessive.
"deep into her favored bean bag chair."
I love the details you provide here--makes it feel homely...'beanbag' is one word though.
"in the crumbling vestiges of youthful games."
I love the word 'vestiges'! This line is kind of sad though..
Those last lines really work well--they're so evocative and strong.
Good luck
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Thanks for the insights and suggestions. Actually "season's" is supposed to be possesive as in "season's turning". "Soon" is descriptive of "turning", "season" posseses this "turning".
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i really like this, wonderful write and good luck in the contest, take care
stephanie
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