Friends send word
that it’s a stellar
autumn back home,
punctuated with pics
of unimaginable
flushes of perfect
color, ringing against
deep blue skies,
nudging my heart
to impossible
yearnings…
For long luxurious
walks scented
by Nature’s turning,
the poignant musk of
her full fruition,
apricot and crimson
ablaze with sunlight,
her dazzling glow
embracing me,
bending my mood
and contemplation.
Whoever could feel
tired or defeated
on such days?
I felt naught
but goodness and
rightness on these
halcyon treks,
Nature teaching me
the natural way
of everything –
It is not death,
but a tender
“see you later”,
only to rise up
again, transformed
in sweet green,
bidding me “hello”,
begging me to
walk and talk
of possibilities,
plans, the rebirth
of everything,
including me.
But just for awhile,
how my heart longs
to stroll once again
‘neath that crimson.
Crimson Reverie is an excerpt from Soul Journey: The Poetry of Life
Posting Crimson Reverie has become an autumn tradition for me. It’s a nod to home and its beauty, my love of nature and its rhythms, family and friends who I miss deeply, so much that I hold dear in my heart. It’s life.
© Susan L Hart / HartInspirations.com / HarteBooks.com / Free ebooks
Susan L Hart / Author 
Lovely poem 💛
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Thank you, Sara. 🙂
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You’re most welcome,
Susan 🌻
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Oh, the colours are heart stopping right now. Beautiful, sentimental poem
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Thanks, VJ. I’ve seen a few photos. Wish I were there. 🙂
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Welcome. Yesterday was the first day I got photos. I think it might be the last – the leaves are disappearing fast.
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Love this. Beautiful words Susan! I have read it before. And still think it’s beautiful. I’m certain home misses you too. 💕
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Thank you, Alegria. 🙂
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I also love, and miss, the autumn colors!
Your wonderful poem reminded me of The Moody Blues; “Threshold of a Dream.” Here are some of the lyrics:
When the white eagle of the north is flying overhead and browns, reds, and golds of autumn lie in the gutter…dead. Remember then that summer birds with wings of fire flaying Came to witness spring’s new hope; born of leaves decaying. As new life comes from death, so love will come with leisure. Love of love and love of life and giving without measure, gives in return a wondrous yearn of promise; almost seen. Live hand in hand and together we’ll stand… on the threshold of a dream. ====================
https://duckduckgo.com/?q=moody+blues+threshold+of+a+dream&iax=videos&ia=videos&iai=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DrB3wEYMT-QE
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Thank you for sharing these really beautiful words, ~spirit~>. The Moody Blues seem like such a distant memory now.
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