I
The smile of fall
a rare and fleeting gift
like that of one whose visage
is reflexively severe
from discipline built up through years
of self-constraint, of striving for the prize
the burnished glow of mastery
that shines through fruit and crimson leaf
against impassioned skies.
II
But no
for fall speaks of the grace of letting go
the end of effort and the floating backward
tumbled down, but glinting brilliant
not because of winning
but for all the steady time beneath the sun
falling as a blanket to the earth
now that the kiss of summer’s done.
III
in every Autumn day
three faces
one for looking forward
one for looking back
one for looking inward
toward what glows against the lack
When green retreats
the inner fire
will find its core
and flame up higher.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2011