Rustling October rain
sends swirling leave that
pass me in their marathon.
I am left in last place.
Sheets of gold, yellow, red,
scoot along like mascots.
Wind is high. Wind is strong,
as its hands push me none too
gently in the middle of my back.
Canvas tote raises like a flag
as I juggle to keep contents inside.
A laughing sun watches, giggling
in gusts and sighs, sometimes
a half-meant growl.
Autumn is a naughty boy who
resists the cold breath of the
grumpy, bearded Old Man Winter.
A contest entry
- October by ea.
700 points, ended November 1, 2008, 34 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This paints a dream-like picture of October, rustling Autumn out with the leaves as in a marathon, but he, personified as a young boy, is obstinate, defiant of Winter's authority.
suggestion: a rustling rain "passes" me in "its" marathon...
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Ha...sis, how cleverly you have with your pen mastered this topic of old man winter threatening in the winds of October to show his face through growls, and blustery shoving and pushing you and your canvas bag....love your imagery as always...Masterful write!
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What a brilliant picture you have created for us. Lovely words and excellent imagery. As always, I enjoy your poems. Good luck in the contest.
Joan
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Wonderful write mom. I wish it would stay Autumn year round I hate winter and the cold although last week it was in the 20s here. Amazing imagery throughout. I so enjoyed reading. Good luck in the contest Hugs and love you
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