Autumn is leaving, the fourth sister she draweth nigh!
gone are the harvest days of farmers and plow
as thundersnow arcs across the sky.
Winter, my dear, is here once again
freezing naked glass in window pane
wooden doors bow out, and fir trees begin to bend
from the remnants of autumn’s rain
Astride the back of a century’s old stag
both white from ages long gone
white hands grasp the reigns, the beast carries his charge
as the fourth sister sings a wintertide song
“Come Artic wind! Come here, once again!
freeze the day and turn it to night
turn the lakes to stone
the world the color of bone
with the power of your celestial might!”
And the wind doth obey, the skies steel grey
the way a peasant would obey a queen
for as she sits astride her eighteen point mount
she wears a ice cycle crown for the world to see
And this is the way it’ll be until May,
till the wildest of the sisters arrive
bringing warmth from the south
the sisters will battle it out
above the ground far up in the sky
But for now the world sleeps
in dreams so deep, lulled there
by the weight and warmth of snow
the sun’s long gone
the nights grow long
set ablaze by the moon’s silver glow
Here she will reign, until February’s gone
till her grasp weakens and and let’s go
but for now she’s here, heed her power my dear
I would hate for you to get lost in the snow.
Of all the things I can pray for
Besides peace and the end to war
Is that I may be a light in the dark
In that pure place where we go
To greet the day, a friend, or lover
With gentle voice and healing hands
To show mercy when there is hurt
And show love to my fellow man
I pray for those in peril
As they cross that refugee mile
For those who receive them and take them in
I pray that neither will tire.
I pray for those who raise their fist
Isis, isil, and I.S that you show them wisdom of all the ages
That life doesn’t need to be lived like this
I pray for France and for Lebanon
For Palestine and Israel
That brothers Muslim and Jew
Can know peace for themselves as well
I pray for my soul and my country
That there can be a healing here today
So that our family can come to the table together
To feast and laugh and pray
Of all the things I can pray for
From moonlight to rising sun
I must acknowledge my helpless soul
And say My Lord, Thy will be done.
City of light, city of love
Fairest art thou in the spring
Shadows shuttled cowardice to your doorstep tonight
Yet through unknown terror Parisians started to sing
Your anthem so rousing and noble
Proudly heard throughout the shock, stilled world
Your character shone strong in your voices
Triumphant even as horror unfurled
You brought to a fledgling nation, salvation
Taught us what it meant to stay true to true things
Every night your children march proudly
Through the streets the revolutions still sings
Vive La France! we shout right beside you
Je suis Parisienne! Here we are!
Long live our mighty sister to our East
A democratic independent bright star!
Tonight we are all gallant Frenchmen
Marching onward ever upward to eternity
Singing songs about joyous revolution
Equality, Fraternity, and sweet Liberty!!!
Vive la France!
There is a comfort I take in France’s history. That is one nation that you don’t mess with. France, during good times and bad, has always been formidable. The French hold liberty, and fraternity, and equality very close to their hearts.
She came to us in our hour of need when we were emerging as a fledgling nation. She delivered to us a symbol of freedom in the Statue of Liberty – a gift that now resides in our New York Harbor.
She’s known good times and bad, but she is one hell of a nation and tonight I think I speak for most Americans when I say, God Bless you.
Tangled sheets and tousled hair
At three a.m you murmur
Updates for me in your dreams about work and the life that you live when you go there
But what really gets me
Is when you’re awake you need
And that need gets me higher and higher
See, my husband I exist to feed you
All the things you desire and need to
Make our lives much sweeter on this bayou
This life’s deep river
With lips so tender
I plan to keep doing good by you
My lover, my friend, my beginning my end
I can’t quite find me anymore
Because when you are in me
You’re always in me
When our clothes lay strewn on the floor
Or when we’re out on the town
With the windows rolled down
And the sunlight streaming inside
You’re still in me, the very breath that I breath
And without it I would surely die
We are the body erotic, burnt
Eros and gentle platonic I can’t see with my eyes anymore
Our love is great love
Sent from above, have mercy
Lord, what would I do without it?
I am geeked to show you all this. My friend Kari Higa reimagined my poem, Autumn is her name, into art. Check this out!
Autumn, the wisest of the sisters. With red unbraided hair.
Dances across cool night winds to casts spices in the air.
She’s the comforter of the four, you see
with eyes of palest green
She sings the earth to sleep each year, and bids the world to dream
Winter is coming before too long
The fourth sister draweth nigh
But for now the harvest fields are hers to play in
encouraged by the moon in the sky
See yonder woman there, as she steps through orchards full
Watch her dance between bales of hay stacked high
as the farmer’s wagon pull
Their bounties overflowing, for hungry bellies to feed
The toil of man’s hard work has paid in bushels
From tiny well placed seeds
From springs violent showers,
To summers clay warmed from the sun
To bear fruit for her when cool winds blow
When the growing seasons done
Soon, the fairest sister will come calling
Bringing white and icy snow
And farmers fields will lay fallow as northern winds begin to blow
Yet, For just a while longer fall is here
Setting tops of trees aflame
The wisest of the sisters shall dance through the night
And Autumn is here name.
Art Work by Kari Higa