Patterns

Me on my way out of town. Photo by Anastasia Koros

Tonight as I gazed into

My mirrored eyes

I saw in my reflection

The shape of my skull

Beneath the flesh, and

I saw the pattern

Of my life, and

Perceived the rhythm

Underlying the flow

Of my days.

Perhaps I have gained

A newer perspective

As the years have passed by

Or perhaps I have simply

Learned to recognize

The threads of the patterns,

But whichever way the truth lies

I will follow to the very end.

Deep in the night

The church bell tolls and

Someday it will toll for me

Autumn Again

Some of the leaves are a

Lip-pursing, sour-apple

Yellowy green, so tart

I can almost taste the

Sharp crisp bite as it

Implodes on my tongue,

Leaving my taste buds

Dazed and aroused and

Waiting for the next, almost

Painful, burst of flavor.

There are the trees with their

Leaves of red and orange,

Standing like flaming

Sentinels, spearing into

The blazing blue

Of the autumn sky.

Oh, how can I survive

Such burning beauty,

Season after season,

And not lose my hold

On reason, my sweet reason.

The smoke from the pyre

Of roasting leaves

Perfumes the air and

Brings back memories

From all the autumns

Of my days,

As I add another

Brightly-colored memory

To the story of my years.