Got the Zing!

I shall not go quietly.

Monocolors about to shift
enabled by passing time.
A last hurrah.

Flashing reds and golds
kicking up my heels,
swirling dervish as I let loose.

Revelry earned by business suits,
years of accountability
must-dos and many don’ts.

I shall dance the can-can.
precisely because I can
and am.

My name may not be Autumn,
but watch me go out
in a blaze of glory.

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Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Bjorn asks us to write using metaphor. Photo cropped from one in Pixabay.com. 

Fall’s Egress

Melancholy autumn rain.
Nature weeps as color takes its leave,
once golden amber, streaked through brown.
Droplets cling momentarily,
cleave to hawthorne crimson berries.
Lover’s farewell kiss.

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Photo taken outside our Boston high-rise yesterday. Coincidentally, our building is called Hawthorne Place and yes, this is a hawthorne tree after the morning’s rain.