I like the way this turned out, Sue.
The things that are not necessary for us to be taught or know, the things we
understand instinctively are all part of our being part and a result of our
being part. We need no lessons in grieving.
The history of the yellow leaf explains our time here and the inevitable
consequence of life. Reminds me a little of 'Dylan's ' The force that
through the green fuse drives the flower '
I particularly like the wrap-up strophe where we learn of betrayal from
experience, a trust misplaced, the nice weaving in of honey, stings and bees
with the kiss of betrayal, and with the whole guile of summer, rich with
promise, that decays forever into fall and winter,is excellent.
The theme seems to need more room to develop for me perhaps but has its own
intensity at this shorter level which I am sure you are content with.
Regards Arthur.
BTW Nice to see you back and productive.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sue Scalf" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, May 06, 2003 1:51 PM
Subject: new: The History of a Yellow Leaf


> The History of a Yellow Leaf
>
>
> The history of a yellow leaf
> is part of me. There are things
> we do not need to learn:
> the lineage of a maple tree,
> the serpent's pedigree.
>
> The genealogy of grief
> requires no heraldry.
> We know a doom
> when streaks at dawn forecast
> impending storm, know in the bone,
> the red of alarm.
>
> Some things cannot be taught--
> the faithless lover's kiss that lingers long,
> a honey on the tongue when winter comes.
> In stinging memory, we taste the summer
> when bees are gone.
>
> Sue Scalf