Tag Archives: autumn

Last night, my after-dinner walk brought me through the forest up to the hilltop. At this time of year it’s a transition getting used to the earlier darkness and learning to hear the sounds of the night. But it’s also the time when the hilltop view sparkles with lights as the city opens up, becoming a magical tapestry of distant reflections. Overhead ragged clouds play striptease with the universe and the half moon radiates her silvery charms. I stand there drinking it all in, letting my mind settle and letting go of all my small thoughts and distractions until it’s just me and the universe. I sense a presence and turn around. There, in the dusky shadows is a family of deer, pausing for a moment to look at the same lights. Eventually they melt into the dark and I make my way downhill.

 

 

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Filed under Passing Thoughts

against the current

traveling against the current

against tide travelers

gliding up and out on slick ribbons

pulled into dark forests

where green marries black

 

here, a stream shakes life into the air

with each slap of battered fighters

broaching destinies while gulls consider

their next course

 

traveling against clocks

traveling elliptically

even traveling when we arrive

until it’s all fluid

sliding tumbled into tomorrow

yesterdays lie scattered on banks and riverbottoms

 

trees, not quite full frontal

wear mossy leggings and use ferns as pasties

trailing natty beards weirdly mist woven

ferns dictating understories into vanishing ravines

reading secret landscapes from sacred scores

 

traveling fast slowly

against currents

against granite

against predation

into natural inclusion

into natural solutions

traveling against the current

 

 

David Trudel     ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Poetry

haiku – November 2

wind revealed

dancing leaves swirl

others stay attached

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

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Filed under Haiku

it’s colder

time for another layer

it’s colder

evenings have become nights

walks turn into mysteries

sounds or shadows

ready to pounce

or disappear into recesses

better forgotten

unfocus away

nightviews an intervention

electrified horizons

unroll blueprints of a thousand streets

under muffled obscurity

it’s colder

there are mysteries in margins

fog rolls

growing into something

unknowable

 

 

David Trudel       ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Poetry

Portent

In the thin heat of late summer

Every picnic is bittersweet

As leaves bleed green and turn to rust

July’s refreshing breeze

Is now a portent of autumn storms

Flights of birds climb airstairs

Chanting their exit visas

Winging it

Still, the day holds heat enough

To shorewalk barefoot

Letting gentle tides kiss your toes

With the languor of a late afternoon lover

Satiated with passion

But not with affection

 

 

David Trudel    ©  2013

 

 

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Filed under Poetry