September 23, 2013

If Ever I Would Leave You ... The Book of Me ... Prompt # FOUR

A verse in one of my favourite songs from the Lerner and Lowe score of "Camelot" goes,

"If ever I would leave you,
 It couldn't be in autumn,
 How I'd leave in autumn, I never will know.
 I've seen how you sparkle
 When fall nips the air.
 I know you in autumn,
 And I must be there."

I do sparkle in autumn.  I delight in that nip.  I love putting the cozy duvet on the bed, pulling out the canned pumpkin from the pantry, putting on my fall colours.

I'm not a summer person.  Although I am slight of figure, I don't like the heat, or humidity, and I hate the wasps. The storms of summer put a fright in me. We are in a bit of a tornado-zone here, and lately the lightning-storms tend to be mostly of the vertical variety, rather than the horizontal.  I am glued to the weather channel on those days.

Give me the turning of the leaves, the chilly little breeze and furnace coming on.  My favourite season, above all is fall,

But send in those winter-birds returning, the licking flames in fireplace burning; put some port-wine in my glass, Vivaldi on the air, and I'm a happy lass without a care.

I wrote this poem a few years ago, but I think it expresses what I feel at this, my favourite time of year.

Autumn Apologia

Don't write of every one that falls, from branch at Autumn-time;
Resist those vibrant colours gone to rust and gold, from lime.
No need to mark the pull of breeze that tugs from tender tree;
Better men than we, have said it all, so leave it be.

Don't speak of sugared-maples, in their burning-glory daze;
Of lazy oaks, slow-turning acorns' minions to a blaze,
Of dogwood's purple palmates; birches, high, of honeyed hue;
Abundant odes of homage have been writ to pay their due,

And yet, the flutter, floating free, that carries each one down,
The dance of profuse partners, tumbling, tripping top to crown,
Can turn the head unfailingly, the pen to page, so fleet,
Each instance when a leaf descends to earth, its end to meet.

So we'll forgive the impulse, once again, to talk of this:
Nature's shedding season, bedding down for winter's kiss.

Kathleen Mortensen©2010

Call me crazy, but this is how I rank the seasons:



  1. Nice poem... Fall person here too. :)

  2. I love Fall and Camelot! I would agree with your list of seasons. I don't like to be hot. I enjoyed your poem.