early fall—beginnings and endings
photo by Sylvia
aveces, mi alma me duele
(sometimes, my soul hurts)
Amo, amas, amat, she thought. Amamus, amatis, amant. Their Latin teacher had made them march through the halls chanting conjugations. I love, you love, he, she, or it loves. It loves? That made no sense. We love. You (plural) love. They love. And then, of course, the perfect passive subjunctive – would that I had been loved – the saddest conjugation of them all.
From The Year of the Gadfly by Jennifer Miller, 2012
the heart skips a beat for the early days of October
you fell into my path
and I carried you to safety
sometimes tears,
sometimes laughter,
and sometimes
both
i watched the leaves fall gently from the trees
and for just a single moment, i thought the trees were crying
it was the season of soft sienna
and stewing oatmeal,
of cool nights and mist filled mornings
with crows calling for the day to open once again
the rich, bursting, ripe colors of late summer flood the senses and gladden the heart