Thursday, September 30, 2010


Someone asked me if I was obsessed with death.
He didn't say what he meant by obsessed.
I love this painting. Frida Kahlo's "Dream"
would be my answer. But, in the moment I
was tongue tied. Then the conversation turned,
as it does at dinners with people.

The wind is wild today and I'm waiting on a storm.
Bluster and blow-downs littering the back roads.
Power still on. It's fall. All kinds of rot -- peony
and mushroom. The dead snake. A tiny turtle carcass
along the shoulder of the road where I run.
The smells. Grapes ripen. The maple trees
are nearly past color to disappearance.
My favorite season.


linhelen said...

I love this! Had a discussion with a friend recently who associates death with winter. I told him that autumn is the actual "time of death." I am sending him your post.

Pam said...

Thanks linhelen...and thanks for stopping by. Let me know what your friend has to say. Best, Pam

linhelen said...

He said, in essence, that your beautifully descriptive entry won him over to the death sense of autumn.