Saturday, January 31, 2015
A Poem by Michael Lee Johnson
Fall is Golden
The last golden yellow apple
hangs like a healing miracle
bow down old apple tree
winter is coming.
Life is a single thread this time.
Golden woman is a sharp eye fall woman.
She watches leaves turn shy,
around, turn many colors,
colors dance of joy then death.
Winter is a vampire,
she is a prelude to Spring:
walk days into faith, grace, and salvation.
Sparrows perch on bare branches nearby,
more interested in my bird feeder, now,
than they will be in the early spring.
Life is on its way to seasonal heaven's door.
My old willow tree, shaking, wind dances.
Its narrow leaves splinter yellowed,
spin loose fall down.
In a short time winter must learn
to write straight, complete, surrender, forfeiture.
World outside my balcony window
is compelling, cold yet,
I return to my bedroom, tuck in, restful.
Nikki, kitten beside me, dreams
of gold, hints of Jesus forever sleep.
Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era: now known as the Illinois poet, from Itasca, IL. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, photographer who experiments with poetography (blending poetry with photography), and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois, who has been published in more than 750 small press magazines in 27 countries. He edits 8 poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freendom (136 page book), several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning Rises and Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems. He also has over 70 poetry videos on YouTube.