The Colors & Sense of Autumn

I've had several images and phrases stuck in my head lately that I know is a piece of poetry (or two) waiting to break it's way through to the surface of my consciousness.  Weeks now, they have been roiling around, gathering bits and pieces of images and memories, waiting patiently for me to figure out the order, the cadence, the meaning of what they all are.  So far I have enough about leaves to make a really good bed of mulch.

There's the imagery of trees standing like sentinels along the sides of country roads.  The maples and sumacs spilling their crimson leaves in blood like pools around their roots.  And my favorite is the imagery of the last of the summer sun held aloft in the limbs of the ginkgo tree on the corner.

And unrelated (maybe, maybe not) is the billboard along the road advertising a show at the IMA entitled Sacred Spain.  The first time I saw it I thought it said Sacred Pain.  Robbie thought the same thing.  Nothing like a huge billboard with a crucified Christ to grab your attention first thing in the morning.  Hopefully I'll get to see the exhibit while it is here.  The IMA has been doing some wonderful shows since we moved back.  And I think it may also have to do something with the little remodel they finished a few years ago.

Some poetry has been fully formed upon awakening some mornings.  Others have come to life with just a few words or phrases that have struck my interest.  (You thought I was going to say "struck my fancy" didn't you.)

This one, this one though is going to be a lot of work.  Then again, the Muse could strike at any moment and the piece will be fully formed when I wake up in the morning.