Poem: Autumn Commotion

Autumn Commotion

From sunshine we are bereft of the warmth

As through the eaves you hear the commotion

Endlessly moaning, the sounds of the wind

Pushing through trees coloring them with cold

They begin dropping, falling, yet swirling.

I light the fire and watch flames swirling

As we all gather round to feel its warmth

Sheltering us all from the autumn cold

And we hear the wood’s popping commotion

As the smoke goes whorling into the wind.

We anticipate some snow on the wind

Replacing the motion of leaves swirling

To white out blizzards making commotion

So, we add another log for more warmth

Though, as yet, we only imagine cold

Knowing full well the freeze of real cold

Blown onto the hills by the raging winds

So strong you have to chop more wood for warmth

And moving like leaves or snowflakes swirling

Because warmth also comes from commotion.

November 2022

About This Poem

The abrupt weather change this year from summer to fall (much needed for the fires) made me think of this poem. While it was written in November, it seems appropriate for this year here in Idaho. It's the season of running (XC), cutting wood, and moving around outdoors enjoying everything autumn while also getting cozy inside and that's what this poem is about. The picture is one of a hiker in September in Kaslo, British Columbia. I thought it represented the idea of Autumn Commotion.

 

Poem: The Lonely Runner

The Lonely Runner

The whole street’s abuzz

With bees in the maple trees

As I walk along singing the song

Of the lonely runner.

Spring is sublime in time

When winter’s grapple must topple

And I regain the refrain

Of the lonely runner.

The ground now abounds

In the brown drain of rain

Drying now ‘neath the feet

Of the lonely runner.

Gaining speed through greed

As the bees in the trees 

Buzz at the sounds

Of the lonely runner.

April 2025

About This Poem

I wrote this poem following the patterns of my own running by the seasons, hence the four stanzas. It, like running, is somewhat rhythmical and I chose to rhyme internally rather than end rhyme so that it can sound sing songy without looking that way. I wanted to play with poetic sound effects, just like I like to play around while I'm running. Right now, I have a knee injury and can't run so when I ran across this poem it rang true. I was really hoping to do a fall half marathon, but alas... The picture is self-explanatory. St. George was the marathon I ran that qualified me for Boston which I did run the next year in 1988. I found it hard to find a picture of a "lonely" runner since I don't typically take pictures of people running alone.

 

Poem: September 11

September 11

I come home from work

And my wife has made pasta for dinner.

Our oldest boy sits down to eat

And we lift the baby to

The table and talk about the day

Where planes collided with buildings

That fell while people died

And the baby eats and 

Then eats more

And sorrow weighs most 

Heavily on us as he weakens

Even as he consumes the 

Sorrows of the world 

and the stars seem 

Aligned to topple us all

As the heavens erupt into the scattered 

Summer fruit left over on the table

Reminding us of the whole 

Universe.

April 2025

About This Poem

I think this one is a work in progress. September has all kinds of emotions in it, from the end of summer to the beginning of fall, and the worst day in the USA so far (hopefully for all of it) in this century. But it is achingly beautiful anyway. Our family went through some real trials during that year when the towers fell and that's the reference I make to the baby. I don't know if this poem completely meets the emotions I want to convey about September, but it's a start. The picture is on Kootenay Lake and the Selkirk Mountains in British Columbia (a lake safe from being renamed by a tyrannical American president). I think it's appropriate to have Canada included in my September emotions because we often vacation on this very lake in September. And like September, this shot is achingly beautiful.