A Southern Fall

By Chie Theresa Fujioka

I love nature
her game of hiding:
the essence of people
culture

lay captured in the foliage

I have known a Northern Fall: --The leaves dripping
with blood reds mixed
with sun yellows.
--The ruthless and restless wind
whipping my hair
into sullen discord.
--The cold jewels
icing the world
and wreathing my chilled fingertips.

But here, where is it?
--I see only olive hues
colors of a Northern Summer
repeated endlessly without regard to season.
--The gentle breeze
does little to encourage
the disobedience upon my head.
--The wet heat
making the sun melt
dripping into the endless ocean.

Yet in my gloom, my eyes open:
--I see the beautiful
blends of colours
splashes of ink.
--I hear the delighted chuckle
of the wind
playing an instrument of leaves.
--I feel the rain
moving clear colour
adorning dry blades with melted drops.

And like the rubied evening
my mood shines
because I know the Living gold

--Of a Southern Fall--

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