After enduring the threats of several hurricanes, none of which have actually hit the Raleigh area (touch wood), the weather has calmed down to an autumnal coolness. We've had the windows of our apartment open for the past few days, and it has felt wonderful. The temps will most likely go back up in a few days, but it's been fantastic to enjoy a little tease of autumn, which is my favorite season.

And so to celebrate this temporary respite in the weather, I offer a poem, originally printed in the "Autumn" section of a certain chapbook, and which I present to you today, free of charge. Enjoy the poem and the weather.

***

Scarlet

Who says Trickster has to me male?
The role can easily be filled by a faery
barely taller than a shrub
with hair the dappled hue of the most elderly of oaks
and wings the fiery reds and yellows of a phoenix feather
and a sleeveless dress the crimson of freshly spilt blood.

She is the harbinger of Autumn
Waking from her summer slumber
to flit from tree to tree with her paintbrush
transforming green to yellow then orange then red.
She works swiftly and silently
moving too fast for human discerning
shifting the follicles of her arbor brothers
down to the lower end of the rainbow spectrum.

But her paintbrush contains rather than paint
the stored flame of primeval fire
left in her care since before recorded history.
She touches the tip of her brush to each leaf
setting alight the slow internal blaze
which consumes moisture and growth
leaving behind a dried-up husk
no longer photosynthesized.

The process takes months
but sooner or later she will visit them all
then stand back with head cocked
her paintbrush gripped lightly like a cigarette
her lips curled in a mischievous smirk
and admire her handiwork.

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons License.

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