Friday, October 28, 2022

Natural Art

The sky was the back of a sheep,

a burning pink fleece

the sun ignited.  By chance 

or invocation I saw what didn’t 

last too long – now the clouds 

are grey-blue-white with

the baby blue sky behind.  In 

that moment the dawn did what

all art does – it made me stop,

take in, consider what is beyond

words but not experience, not

beyond feeling.  That beauty

Nature possesses, gives we translate

into grace  by the way we see ourselves,

treat others.  Like all art

it made room for another moment

even as the memory etched onto

my heart mixing now and forever.


-Byron Hoot

-hootnnhowlpoetry.cOm."

Saturday, October 22, 2022

On the Edge

The leaf on the edge 

of the porch is 

a gentle reminder 

how seasons change,

how one form morphs

into another,

how beauty doesn’t 

always dance in the wind,

how the leaf says, “I am you,

you are me.”  How I have

to agree.

 

-Byron Hoot

 hootnhowlpoetry.com

Friday, October 14, 2022

Two Meditations on Fall


                   I

The blood-red fallen maple leaves

looked as alive on the ground 

as they had on the trees.

 

 If “the past is never past,”

then the dead are never dead –

now is forever in a moment.

 

Hence the admonition, “Pay

attention” spoken through all

time, in all cultures makes sense.

 

There are verities no ideas, dogmas

can dislodge and life-in-death

and death-in-life is one of them.

 

The truth is I love the leaves

on the trees, I love the leaves

on the ground – both beautiful.

 

            II

The furnace running 

is a sure sign fall

is here as well as 

the frost, the fallen,

falling turned leaves,

the days one minute 

shorter from one 

to the other.  And that 

melancholy of the heart,

that sweet sorrow 

for remembered time,

that sweet longing 

for dreams to come true,

that fall into the paradise

of joy and sorrow, 

stories to be told.


-Byron Hoot

 hootnhowlpoetry.com.  


Communion

I buy Fig Newtons occasionally. They  are a communion with that time when Mrs. Heinz  would give them to me when Dad and Mom, Reverend and M...