Poets Forum
THE LAST DANCE
One lone leaf left to dance Clinging to his host
The October wind gave its all
To sever its hold.
Wildly twirling the leaf around
Faster and faster
But his will was stronger The whipping wind gave up. The leaf held on
Until the right moment He then simply let go To dance his last dance Across the sky
Autumn’s final good bye.
— Amanda Smart Benton
HARD LESSON LEARNED
First it got my new pickup, And then the old red barn, And then my neighbor’s tractor
But it didn’t do him no harm.
Burned twenty acres of his field
And tried to burn the store, Soon, I got it under control And it didn’t burn no more.
I finally decided
That it really wasn’t no use To burn those wheat fields every year
And take all that abuse.
—Betty Heidelberger Deceased
AUTUMN’S SONG
God’s handiwork is all around magenta, scarlet, yellow leaves; sun-burnished pasturelands abound cut, ripened wheat stands bronzed in sheaves.
Magenta, scarlet, yellow leaves, umbrella groves of sassafras cut, ripened wheat stands bronzed in sheaves a visual banquet unsurpassed.
Umbrella groves of sassafras a camouflage for brindle cows
(a visual banquet unsurpassed) which nonchalantly chew and drowse
Like Garland’s fresh-shaved stubble, gold, sun-burnished pasturelands abound and I sing with the Oriole God’s handiwork is all around.
— Pat Laster Benton
AUTUMN WITHOUT YOU
We welcomed our spring times with garden seed and told each other just how richly blest we were to share our lives. We felt no need to search for happiness beyond our nest.
We watched two robins build where they could hide their pale-blue egg among new redbud leaves, set out peach trees in place of two that died.
Then I learned how half a pair can grieve.
In still fresh garden tracks left by your feet
I walked and wept and watered with my tears— the memories — our summer incomplete,
But thanked the Lord for outlasting years.
My faith will teach me not to question why.
No one will say, “Come see!” when wild geese fly.
— Faye Boyette Wise Benton
DON’T MISS THE SHOW
Watch the sun thread its light through the live oak trees. See autumn come alive in the red and gold leaves.
The woods are awash in the colors of fall; don’t miss the show— this is your last call!
— Mike Pafundi Deceased