Thursday, November 7, 2013

Autmn Aria

Autumn Aria
Mary Hudson

The song descended with dusk.

I could hear it from my kitchen window,

Pulling me through the door,

Out into the crystal cold.

Golden purple notes draw me westward, sunward.

Enchanted trees stand frozen in the stillness,

Their indigo silhouettes thrumming the harmony

Of my autumn aria.

Hickory incense, sacred to the memory of

Winters past brings a chuckle to my throat.

The sound never escapes my lips.

To break the stillness would end the music.

Swiftly my feet carry me

Scuffling leaves in a cadence

All their own. This moment,

This symphony is mine alone.

A discordant rumble rends the night,

The headlights pierce my thoughts with impunity.

The melody is lost forever.

It’s just as well, for I have returned


November 24, 2008

 Dear Sir or Madam,

Thank you so much for sponsoring this contest.  This is my first attempt at poetry since I was at least eleven years old.  I am now twenty-three, a homemaker and mother to two rambunctious boys, with another one on the way.

This poem snuck up on me rather unexpectedly.  I can tell you “write a poem” was not on my mile long to-do list that day.  I rushed outside to throw away a diaper and was arrested by the one-of-a kind, not-to-be-duplicated spell of the evening.  I returned to the house long enough to grab a coat and ask my husband to watch the kids.  

 And then I walked.   

The entire universe became my private retreat and I felt myself renewed with every step.  Suddenly, I was rudely interrupted by an obnoxious truck and the spell was gone.  

 I know I can never regain the moment, but this poem is how I captured the memory.   

And that is why I wrote it.

Sincerely yours, 
                                                       Mary Hudson


*Once again, I was struck by the beauty of an autumn evening while taking out the trash.  This long forgotten contest entry came to mind.   I loved writing it.  But I didn't win.  It seems this was a sham contest with no real "winners", just potential suckers who would be willing to buy an "anthology" with their masterpiece included.  

Oh, well.