Tag: autumn

Autumn’s Wick (day 1937)

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As Autumn’s candle blows clouds away
Sharpness enters into this day
At the cost of blue one cannot say
The geese should fly today.
But as Hermes doth say,
“Winter, come our way,”
So must we abide by nature’s law.
And here we are amidst the fray
Swirling leaves on an Autumn day,
And frost spreading it’s silver lining
Along the open grass
With little paw prints
Bustling here and there,
To prepare for Winter’s deep lair,
Shelter and warmth bites the air
Though Autumn’s wick doth get shorter.

Autumn's Wick by Ned Tobin

Ode to Autumn (day 1931)

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When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Bugs, beetles..
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Preparation everywhere,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.

And Tender So (day 1913)

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Flourish
And fall like the rest of us;
Autumn my heart can never bear.
And sing it out to me
Steal it from the depths
I’ve covered up and closed.
Be the curling leaf
Upon which my gaze can never leave,
Listen intently
To the voice I never gave
Rumbling rumbling rumbling
Rain that never came
And tender so:
Frosting of my heart.

And Tender So by Ned Tobin

Edges (day 1911)

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Off you go, into the North
Leaving me here all wrapped in alone,
I see the tender wind a blowing
Guiding you on your way.
All around green leaves are turning,
At first in yellows at the edge,
Then before I know to check my season,
Fully entrapped in brown as vivacious earth below.
This makes me think of how you’ve taken
Over these delicate edges of my heart;
At first you were sweet wind blowing
On a sunny, summer afternoon.
Then you started to set my edges
To warmer shades of home,
Until at last, I fell, expanded,
Into this palm you call forever.
And all the while, I’ve always trusted
An unerring cycle of our earth;
North to South, East to West,
Forest trails from here to there,
And as I turn my inner eye
(Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer)
I realize no matter the colour of the sky
It’s nothing, unless you are the colour of my home.

Thanking The Season (day 1605)

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Did you design the skies?
Did you place heaven floating
Amidst autumn leaves
And fleeting burning skies?
Did you button up cold birds
With warm woolly vests,
And marvelous plumage?
Did you gather piles of dead leaves
To spring board a crash landing?
Did you harvest pumpkins
Each of unique size and shape
To make my summer heart
Shift into darker hues of gold?
Well then, thank you.

20151013 - Fungii - Ned Tobin

Pendulum Whispers (day 1601)

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Surely whispers slowly yell –
To build out the axis
Layered in love:
An uneven groundscape of
Imagination and patience,
And I am not alone.
No, I am the average
Of simple moving axis
Shifting at the speed of
Your roaming wheels,
And a leafy autumn
In the midday sun.
This is the whisper of
Slow motion in a pendulum.

Search O’Er Lain Land (day 1590)

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Glen to glen
I’ve wandered brooks
Searching for my
Crag with a hook

Little, though
My hearts dismay
Could effort swing
Precipice lay

For o’er lain land
My hoof she ran
Like orphaned seeds
Autumn’s light breath

Dagger be given
To the laughing lady
High atop as a
Clever tight rock

For no path could be laid
No gorge to ford
No eye to twinkle
Amidst sun-lit wrinkle

Now guide thee home
Pulse in thine known
I hear the clean broom
And dear Mother’s boom

20150825 - Monashees Mushroom Picking - Ned Tobin - 19

Rolling Circles (day 1580)

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I am beginning to observe this once again,
One two three one two three one two three.
And your elegance makes my romance
Waltz as a leaf in autumn’s light breeze.

Let this hand be lead for thee,
One two three one two three one two three.
And my pen write again because
Circles rolling down these widening streets.

“Late,” said the bus to a leaning signpost,
One two three one two three one two three.
And if recollections could be the bumblebee
Sun would soak yellow into sands of our memory.