How to Mary Oliver the Trees

One red maple tree
stands alone among late green.
It's good to be you.

Gray lake in autumn,
seven white sailboats drift past.
Silent floating ghosts.

Three gray squirrels fight;
an acorn, a girl, a nest?
one red leaf stops them.

Morning comes darker,
children sleep later, rise well.
Summer's heat is gone.


This week's http://www.onedeepbreath.blogspot.com prompt is autumn haiku. Such an important season, such portent, such pressure to capture it just perfectly, as perfect as autumn is!

I love autumn. It is by far, my favorite season. September always feels like a new year, like a new chance to make a fresh start. In my college days it was the clean notebooks, new highlighters, sharp tipped pencils, the smell of brand new textbooks (I would spend the $70 for a new book, rather than $25 for used, just to have that smell), the assigments I knew I'd get done on time, and, as an art student, the new, pointy tipped crayolas (of course I didn't need them for class, I just couldn't resist!) that I loved! Now, I still love looking at shiny notebooks and folders in stores. I was so excited to go school supply shopping for my son. I don't know how a kindergartner will ever use 27 multi-colored folders and 15 one-subject notebooks, but hey, it was fun!

Fall. Then there's the trees. And the leaves. And the smells. Growing up in the Adirondacks, I practically lived haiku. That is in retrospect, of course. As a teen, it was the maroon and gold of haircolor, lipstick and sweaters that I was concerned with, not the leaves. But now...but now. Now, the trees on the highway leading north, home to the mountains, leave me wanting. Wanting to capture their colors in word and sound. For those of you who know the poet Mary Oliver's work, you may relate: I want to Mary Oliver them!

Oh, the pressure. I hope I did autumn justice. Thanks for reading.