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  • Phantom Fall

    2010 - 09.30

    Fall, the dying time of year

    Hopeful summer trees give up their leaves

    In hope of some new existence.

    Halloween, still scary even after what we’ve done to it

    The Poets eye sees it all.

    Dark matter everywhere

    Things not quite on our frequency creep out

    On the one night humans think they play

    I am a ghost in a graveyard

    Watching the change

    Listening to the sleeping of the dead

    Fully knowing a bed is already made up for me.

    Just as the dying become more colored and enlivened in their end

    The trees burst forth in a natural psychedelia of splendor

    It is their last effort before the winters sleep.

    I will not sleep this winter for it will be hard

    And I keep these cards close to my chest

    Hoping I will be here when the trees wake from their sleep

    And put on new mantles of life.

    Could I ever do the same?

    Grand old oaks seem to live forever

    Enduring these seasonal repetitions

    I cannot hope to do the same

    Only a very few have such luck.

    The fruit which sustained me in the sun is now becoming scarce

    Like extra dollars in my bank account.

    Squirrel and other animals of the forest

    Scamper to collect and feed themselves fat before the long winter.

    I always wished I could hibernate like the forest bear

    But we humans stay busy until the final sleep.

    These are the thoughts that creep into your mind

    When you whisper to gravestones.

    With the leaves falling down around you

    And unidentified sounds creeping all around you in the still night.

    Without this dying back there would be no spring

    Without the silence of the graveyard

    You would never hear babies cry.

    Phantom fall rolls in and takes a little bit of me away

    Promising to return this borrowed piece of my life

    When the flowers bloom again.



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