Quietly Fall

Pale petals fall
on this autumn day,
curl oblong & blank,
stare at the sky
like feline Asian eyes.

Trails of mist
spray over the soil,
vacant tendrils reach
for the light.

Gradually, the sun coats
the fence with pastel
shadows. Fits of
breeze strike
chairs turned to dusk.

In calamity we find our limits.
Each day we try to wash the same spots.
Over there where the leaves fall
the tree grieves in the quiet.

After the windows are closed,
the heavy trowel put away,
the deer again dodge incoming.
The bus stop & the streetlights enjoy the fog.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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