“A Lion In Autumn”

A Lion In Autumn

Autumn and the reddening leaves
bask in the glow of an Indian summer sun,
I run through the wind in cambric
playtime clothes,
laughter explodes upon my face,
there is a warmth,
an amber warmth that lingers
in this momentary breath
of treasured hours —

I trace the furrows upon his face,
watch infinite shades
of a tangerine sunset
as I listen to stories of the times
when the olive groves were heavy
with fruit,
the songs of lemon blossoms
plenteous as raindrops
upon the dark green leaves —

Now the lion that prowled
through emerald forests
walks in slow, ordered steps,
protruding bones define the sagging,
golden fur,
he holds my arm,
I walk with him,
he and I
no longer swept
in the quick-footed dance
of my elusive childhood —

Time stands still,
palpable as the immutable truth
that luminescent stars sparkle
eternal in the heavens,
and the warmth that lingers
on this jasmine-white day
burns like a candle,
an obstinate flame that glows
eternal in my heart,
no matter the winter,
no matter the cold.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Image: Autumn by Denizler 

26 thoughts on ““A Lion In Autumn”

  1. Oh, the wonderful layers. The heart ache; the realization that NOW – will soon be THEN. Oh to love like that. Besides, autumn besides the what – Who, who dear Dee is this wonderful Tiger? If he evokes such words even stark December will be warm despite the lonesomeness of white, mourning winter.

    • Thank you, dear Sandy, for walking through the layers of this piece, and for understanding. The wonderful king of the emerald forest is my father — I just got back from halfway around the world to celebrate his birthday. Love, Dee

  2. Dee, I love this. My own father is 81 this year and suffers with Parkinson’s. In his eyes, I glimpse the father who chased me through the yard, and the little boy that lived before I knew him. What lives inside has hardly changed………except that every day, it tugs more at my heart. And in the tugging, I fall to my knees, grateful for this immortal love from a mortal man. We are blessed!!!! ~ Love to you always, Dee. ~ Ever, Bobbie

    • Yes, we are blessed, Bobbie for having our fathers. How beautifully you phrase it — the “immortal love from a mortal man”. I quite don’t understand what it is between a father and a daughter, but I am blessed as you are to experience such love. With all fondness, Bobbie. Love, Dee

  3. A truly marvellous poem for obviously a lion of a man. Your love and regard for your father is palpable and yet, if I might add, tinged with melancholy. Deep love is therapeutic and nourishing but also births lurking fears.

    Thank you, Dee, for sharing this snippet of your private life.

    Wishing you and your loved ones many more happy years,

    • How true that deep love is nourishing and therapeutic but also births lurking fears. As we watch the changes of the seasons and of people’s lives around us, we see the patterns of the cycle of life, the inevitability of the end of things and of new beginnings.

      Thank you, Eric, for your thoughts on this personal poem, as well as your good wishes.

      Peace and blessings,

    • Thank you, Carolyn. How wonderful it must be to be a gardener, to see the growth and beauty of plants, to create order and design in one’s garden. Indeed, a very creative enterprise. I am blessed to know that you are uplifted by my blog. I will be stopping by yours as I am intrigued by the obscure characters of the Bible. I am sure I will learn a lot and appreciate them more. God bless you! Dee

  4. powerful as always, Dee, and what a delightfully engaging description of changing seasons. I love the jungle imagery…Now the lion that prowled through emerald forests walks in slow, ordered steps…

    • Thank you so much, Susan. I am glad you enjoyed the jungle imagery of the lion prowling through emerald forests, and the changing seasons. Somehow October makes me melancholic because the gradual turn of the seasons is so pronounced in the timespan of this month. Grace and peace, Dee

  5. Electrical & Ecstatic writing ! I wish we could bottle it! This is just a different kitchen,
    recipe and cooking tools, but still a magnificent dish! What a feast Dee! Gorgeous ! Faithfully Debbie

  6. Beautiful poetic verse. I can relate to the feelings of warmth and memories brought back too for me when I think of my father, gone for over thirty years.

    • Thank you for your kind words, Fred… Oh I know you don’t fail miserably in anything you do, for everything you do is art and beauty in its on right, with your voice and own unique handwriting inscribed in it… Many thanks for visiting my blog and for introducing me to yours… All my best wishes to you from the other side of the pond… Dee

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