Of All of Nature’s Leaves, Envious
most of autumn’s vibrant
declining; the toasted oranges,
gentle browns & cranberry reds.
More photogenic than the fuzzy
budding of spring, the firm green
in summer’s heat, the slumps
of winter’s decomposing.
Not so though for many humans;
we, especially in the white West,
crave only the new, freshly
unfurled youth of May.
Here, in the summer of my life,
may I welcome the fall’s graying,
spotting, wrinkling. May I treasure
the ache that remembers spryness.
When the chill and I acquaint,
may I gather myself in a cozy
blanket & pour a cup of tea,
leaves falling down.
Two Months Have Passed
Cleaning out your studio,
my fingers linger on a tube
of ultramarine oil. You’d swirl it
with turpentine to paint washed
seashore waves, sky blues.
I hoist it towards the bin; my palm
curling ‘round. The crinkled aluminum
contours in a curve. My eyes well
& brim over at your hand’s imprint.
You squeezed mine when we dug
clams on the beach. Sand, sunburn
for days. An unmoored canvas.
Blair Martin grew up on a small farm in Lancaster County, PA. They received their PhD in Clinical Psychology from Bowling Green State University and teach at Joliet Junior College as a professor of psychology. They are participating in the Lit!Commons community with the Loft Literary Center.
