Canto XX

This first line will be followed by cliche—
the sudden chill, the scent of garden fires
towards the end of early autumn days.

And while this trope is overused and tired,
the notion that this sharp, ineffable quale
has stirred the multitudes always inspires

this journeyman bard to roll it out again.
This eternal recurrence works to show
the fact that this experience has been

a part of every scuttling thing that slowed
to raise it’s twitching snout to embered air
and endures til each cosmic furnace blows.

The monk that burns incense says that he shares
this moment with the billions across time
that do the same with focus and with care.

and so, despite these clumsy clunky rhymes
at risk of being a sentimental bore,
I write of autumn bonfires one more time

as I have done a million times before.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 09, 2012 @ 09:24:02

    Cliché are not bad, they are the perfect description.
    Autumn is the perfect metaphor for transition. 🙂

    Reply

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