In mine myriad of forest glen, I transcend time and again. Donna J. Fennel
DECADENCE OF DAYS®
Original, reflective, therapeutic poetry by Donna J. Fennel.
Quilled atop my afternoon balcony on this 24th day of August, 2004.
Revised during a splendid sunrise just for you on October 13, 2006.
I lend foremost appreciation to my nana, who helped me write this clean ~
For whom I grieve, since this earth she did leave when I was age thirteen.
While summer tide gleefully glides, cavaliering on her rainbow ride ~
Creamy clouds creating swarms of starch dramatize an endless march.
I ponder at orchards yonder, burgeoning plumes more so fit for June ~
Soon bearing Macintosh ‘midst their lot, bathed by the mistress moon.
Bellow of the biggest bovine is heard, announcing approach of a herd ~
Alas, I cannot second guess my quest to quill my best for this overture.
O, this hour seems ere bittersweet, as dog days of summer barely bark ~
Letting me know summer's afterglow will bestow a haunting hue of dark.
Nature’s paradise of pastoral play soon makes way for change of guard ~
For her final call, she shadows my wall with sunbeams, heinous and hard.
Woodland beasts forage for food in preparation for ensuing hibernation ~
While I am lost in contemplation, fantasizing autumnal season sensation.
Dreaming of decadent autumnal days, 'pon this balcony I shall gaze ~
'Pon groves growing a somber gray, 'midst a yawning year oh so weary.
As chill instills cradled, cultured comfort of a blanket from mother’s day ~
While brilliant hue unfolds from coverlet azure blue, bright and cheery.
Now summer’s conquest draws dying breath on a yonder barn stead ~
Fashioned by a farmer clan from days of yore, such a long while dead.
Henchmen vultures venture into hollow borne from a whispering wood ~
Harboring hauntings from days that were, where Indians once stood.
Yonder bear with similar beasts seeks peace, enduring a windy blow ~
Waking woeful wolves, whose will to kill is stilled by a hushed overflow.
Hearken now through afternoon, pasture preparing for hunter’s moon ~
That relegates during eve’s wake, an ochre owl crooning a swooning tune.
Harmony’s decadence now dutifully dies, shrouded by sun’s resting rays ~
While starlings’ symphonic swan song passionately plays their end of days
When they migrate towards balmy breeze, while a farmer sows sheeves ~
Bestowing a bless’d bounty to garnish humble table, so long as he is able.
Mother Nature deemed October sweet of tapestry tempting and complete ~
Woven by wondrous, wandering hands of God, ‘pon palette of humble sod.
Eyes grow weary, while candle’s wick smolders as wax becomes ere thick ~
'Pon a pewter plate from nana’s days, as her reflection is cast in moon's rays.
As God would have us know, she comes now to bid we two a doting hello ~
To remind me I am reaching autumnal age, as I view my own emerging grays.
Smote with desire, I wish to view mountain mist wreaths brought into view ~
'Cross the frontier and dale that roam, beyond halls and walls of our new home.
O, in this wayward world we have discovered and uncovered a novel age ~
Of hope and happiness, here, 'midst hallmark as Harmony turns historic page.
I look out 'pon other lands of reality, yet I witness nonesuch common duality ~
Than that which we was bestowed 'mongst a calmness of chasm chaste, yet old.
Voluptuous valley of vista ere pure, whose vestige reveals and peals of allure ~
Unveils an innocence intense and demure, knowing for us Harmony be our cure.
Ah, moon soon appears halfway 'twixt her root and crown 'pon thistle’s down ~
While leaves churn and turn, whose rustle and bustle nudge my passion to burn.
Such merriment and mirth is found 'midst the drifting whispers of this grand earth ~
As nocturnal beauty abounds, and autumn emits sultry scents in her lulling lounge.
Yes, I have witnessed and seen October’s overtures in Harmony, tender and serene ~
Captured and enraptured in autumnal dream, a transitional treasure trove of scene.
Sonnet of signs here I find, prophesizing paradigm of design in months to come ~
When, during winter’s wondrous, pristine view, I witness true a breathless sun
Knowing blustery season has finally won, for it is destined to autumn overcome ~
Illuminated by subtle images etched in icy eternity, as year finds its end of journey.
In whose vast void of patience, how can these winter wonders have integral part ~
Of mine mind and humble heart? Time will tell, as year embarks 'pon a new start.
I look so forward to witnessing seasonal transition here, lending cadence to year ~
Whose pantheon of pasture resembles Parthenon, throughout its transitional glory.
Hallowed historic hallmark unfolds to husband and me, spun of Harmony’s story ~
And tavern tales of old which, I am told, are still recollected in country stores here.
Here, our mission is to share soulful nutrition 'mongst newfound neighborly friends ~
With whom special, generous time we spend, hoping that these bonds will never end.
Know that we welcome all here with open arms to experience Harmony’s charms ~
Whose pomp and pageantry seems empowering, leaving a man amazed and alarmed.
Yet there is solace and grace in this placid place, for no beast comes near to harm ~
As air is filled with spiritual care, wilderness lulls all into their lavish, loving lair.
Yes, with good reason I find that I look forward to approaching seasons in this time ~
Here, where I have desire to uncover a treasure trove of grove yet to be discovered.
As God and Mother Nature vie for my time, a mistress moon hungers for my sight ~
I witness star shine, misplaced in the confines of yet another timeless indigo night .
I am reminded that man, once and always, is a traveler of this infinite cosmic lair ~
Leaning back in my chair I sense my smile, because I know I had come from there.
From spheres and shapes embracing a cosmic quake of solar system beyond compare ~
Betwixt and between this rising star-studded scene, my cosmic self becomes aware.
We two, newest neighbors to wilderness welcome wide-eyed winter’s kiss of bliss ~
While we, in synchronicity, seek our sanctuary throughout this transitional treasury.
Now toiling year reveals ever so clear it requires rest, while brook is reduced to hiss ~
For like husband and me, it has tasted and been satiated of pageantry, this Harmony.
Akin to this year now growing old, revealed by migrating eagle’s floating feather ~
Reveals a dream that next autumn season, we find reason to remain here together.
For in our new nebulae of nature here, where azure sky meets acres of virgin land ~
And our daily routine is never planned, the folks here laugh just 'cause they’re living.
With joy they employ the spirit of giving, knowing all is left in the Holy Father’s hand.
Relishing each day the trill of a lulling lark long after dark, in a meandering meadow ~
Whose domain will soon become plain, barren and stark, engulfed by a shroud of snow.
Yet, without regret in Harmony our dream is met, while our love for this land grows.
"To know that one knows what one knows, and to know that one doesn’t know what one doesn’t know, there lies true wisdom."
~ Confucius ~
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