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Poems - PRISM

PRISM

by mercymercy

I can not see the bottom
of the quiet forest pool
now that we are deep into
Autumn.
It is darker from the damp,
thickly gray clouds
and the heavy covering of the
bright flecks of leaves in their glory --stranded in bunches as
if later-year gardenias.

This is not to say the
clear, wavering heat of
Summer
with its sparkling
blue sky reflection which
revealed even the tiniest rocks
at the bottom of this lovely pond
is forever passed or
longingly remembered.
It is the constant turmoil of
Summer that
brings today the fuller
wonder of
Autumn --
the softer sleep and
heart’s discovery
of the new
slowly intertwining
with the old.

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