Posted by: Thomas Drinkard | November 2, 2013

Caution for Poets in Fall: Autumn Caveat

I posted this a year ago, but now that it’s November, here it is again:

Autumn Caveat

It’s mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection,
-Flashing cold fire In the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or, even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
It’s this:
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory.

Thomas Rowe Drinkard

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