It’s been a bit since I’ve shared any poetry, but my oak trees are crimsoning so I couldn’t resist scribbling a sonnet about the beauty of autumn, the ugliness of dying, and the hope of resurrection.
And yes, “crimsoning” is a word. Isn’t it lovely? It conveys the progressive blush of the autumn foliage and manages to sound a bit like crispy leaves. Say “crimsoning” aloud. You know you want to.
Autumn’s Lament or “To Have in Death”
To have in death such rosy cheeks
Or to, in age, keep golden tresses long
As these self-immolating season's trees
Who lively, lusty burn though summer's gone.
To leave this earth and enter winter's sleep
With color such it seems a second spring
Is a desire so desperate and so deep
We pick, we pluck, we paint—pay anything.
But still we fade from heat to barren chill,
From swollen green to sunken, sallow blue.
We bloom then blow beyond the browning hill
With none of autumn's natural ruddy hue.
Take heart: though outward waning pallid gray,
The inner is reviving day by day.
Musical Ideas
After staring out my kitchen window at the falling leaves for some time this morning, I realized that I was imagining this sonnet sung freely, accompanied by a simple drone. Since I “accidentally” broke my bagpipes a few years ago, I decided to use the open strings of my highland dulcimer and was quite pleased with the result. If any of you happen to be (or know any) Celtic folk singers, please get in touch. I’d love to have an actual vocalist sing/record this!
Ryanne Molinari 