October. Its brilliant festival of dry
and moist decay. Its spicy, musky scent.
The church’s parking lot deserted
except for this one witness,
myself, just resting there.
Somewhere a radio plays Flamenco.
A spotlight of sunshine falls on the scattered debris.
Blood-red and gold, a perfect circle of leaves
begins to whirl,
slowly at first, keeping the pattern,
clicking against the blacktop
like heels and castanets,
then faster, faster, faster. . .
round as a ruffle, as the swirling
skirts of an invisible dancer.
Swept off into the tangled woods
by the muscular breeze.
The hoarse cheering of crows.
Inside the dark empty church,
long cool shadows, white-painted wood,
austere Protestant candles thriftily snuffed,
Perhaps a note on the altar,
Gone dancing. Back on Sunday
~ Dolores Stewart, “Outside” from The Nature of Things
Notes: Poem, Thank you Beyond The Fields We Know. Photo: Pixaby
Love those flamenco leaves … and the note in such a beautiful and austere place.
Yes. Me too.
Amen.
‘gone dancing.’ I’m going to put that on my door every time I head out
I can you see doing that.
love your response…I can’t access “stars” but had to acknowledge! what a great idea!
thanks –
There are moments like this every day. Just take notice. They are everywhere
Yes!
Any and every moment, from this viewpoint, is therefore good or right, the best for whoever it be, for on how one orients himself to the moment depends the failure or fruitfulness of it.
– Henry Miller, Wisdom of the Heart (New Directions Publishing; January 17, 1960)
Ohhh, how I am missing fall in New England….sigh.
Awwww. Time for a road trip back home Lori
Indeed, pal, indeed. Think NH may be at peak right now.
“Skirts of an invisible dancer.”
I will never look at whirling leaves the same. Love it.
Those words, that line. Nor will I ever look at them the same.
Yes, those October colors, “Blood-red and gold, a perfect circle” are so akin to Flamenco–I have a good friend who performs with a Flamenco group–now, I’ll always associate these colors and leaves and their dancing.
Yes, leaves, wind, Flamenco triggered it for me.
Well said