"But in the grey of the morning
my mind becomes confused
between the dead and the sleeping
and the road that I must choose"
The Moody Blues Question
I remember a secret place behind new house construction
still untouched, with a little brook; I knew the hidden entry.
It was September, yellow leaves nattering on thick birches
with impossible blue sky behind. My solitary sanctuary.
I've not been back but know
that a sub and casino took its place.
SUVs, neon signs, leaf blowers,
but in my mind it's still my private place.
My wandering discoveries now unfold in recurring dreams
of curious, fey, deserted neighborhoods found just beyond a rise.
The streets are new, but the homes deserted and crumbling
with just a face here or there behind a curtain, calmly waiting to die.
In these latter years, one seems
as real and compelling as the other.
I once saw a pheasant burst from a bush
and a grackle's lost feather flutter.
___________
for Word Garden Word List--Autumn.
Music: Frank Sinatra The September of My Years
