It was starting to change.
I walked nonchalantly
down the park sidewalk
under the tired oaks
in the late afternoon.
Dead leaves scurried past me
as the wind pressed my back.
with its jealous moon,
has begun to push away the sun
sooner in the day.
And the cool breeze
reminds me of what was…
what no longer is.
The summer is dead
along with its many sins
The abhorrent heat,
which has ripened
the vilest perversions of life,
has gone away.
with its merciless vigor,
will no longer burn,
will no longer deaden the
the vitality under my skin, and
finally, will no longer set fire
to the ones I love.
It’s the dawn of Autumn,
the leaves have begun
their colorful turn.
Smokey chimneys fill the
and the jacket clad people
cover up their summer stains.
This all reminds me
of what is no more,
and I’m now immune.
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Comments about this poem (Autumn by Erik Rittenberry )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(7 March 1819 – 1889)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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