Autumn Fragrance


Wet leaves,
milkweed seed,
painted blooms
honey mead,
fragrance of fall,
floating like Chagall.

Copyright 2018 Brenda Davis Harsham

Chagall Autumn in the Village

Notes: A little ditty for an autumn day. The Marc Chagall, Autumn in the Village, is available as a poster on the AllPosters site. Happy Poetry Friday! Nearly Happy Birthday and thanks to Laura Purdie Salas at Writing the World for Kids for hosting. She has a wonderful poem on her page today. Sadly, I can’t seem to comment anymore. My WP connection seems broken.

35 thoughts on “Autumn Fragrance

  1. So much wonderment in your poem, I love it, thanks Brenda–and wonderful how you wove in the “fragrance of fall” with Chagall! I still intend on sending you the milkweed too, it’s been sitting on my counter drying out… (ps for Laura’s site did you try logging out of WP and using something else like FB, I do this and then it works.)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Autumn Fragrance | By the Mighty Mumford
  3. Brenda, this is wonderful! So much packed into so few words, with lovely imagery and sounds, too. Thank you–and I’m sorry you’re not able to comment on my blog anymore! I don’t find any comments from you awaiting moderation or in my spam folder. Will it not even let you WRITE a comment? So frustrating. Thanks for the kind words, though!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. How are you I am your grandmother

    I am your choice
    I am your choice .. choose
    Between death on my chest
    Or on my books
    Choose love or love
    So do not choose
    There is no middle ground
    Between paradise and fire
    Throw your papers in full and I will be happy with any decision
    Do not look like a screw
    I could never stay
    Like a rainbow under rain
    Exhausted Ante .. And scared
    And very long .. my career
    Gusi in the sea .. or Avdidi
    No sea of ​​dizziness
    Love .. a big face
    Sailing against the current
    The sound and repentance and tears and the departure between the satellites
    Your wife kills me
    They dress from behind a curtain
    I do not believe in love
    Does not carry the bleeding of the rebels
    Do not hit like a hurricane
    Do not break all fences
    Oh, if your love swallows me
    Hurts me like a hurricane
    I will choose you
    Between death on my chest
    Or on my books
    There is no middle area
    Between Paradise and Hell

    Liked by 1 person

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