In Her Autumn
without trembling,
without resistance,
in the autumn,
every autumn,
year after year,
a tree offers up its living adornment –
that which it has given birth to, nurtured,
and seen transform for the past six months.
and you can see the wisdom of her perfect surrender in her face,
the character lines
of seasons spent living,
giving to Nature,
drawn out across her bark.
And I know a Woman
whose face is deep with meaning,
radiating nature’s beauty,
simple, solid, stalwart.
She gives of her strength and solace
to anyone who approaches Her;
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poem by Marc Mannheimer
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A Glimpse of Union
A mid-40ish couple,
walking from their back yard,
a quaint, quaint house,
trellised, treed, covered with skillfully placed green.
She a straight-laced, organic woman,
with black-framed glasses, utilitarian, not fashionable,
a sweater befitting her age,
befitting her comfort with her age,
and her husband,
even more organic than she,
bearded, capped, outdoors-man jacketed, walking up behind her,
together carrying a large, white planter to the house,
a tangle of green
sprouting high above the rim of the plastic holder.
They come more and more into view
as I walk up this gray, placid street,
the perspective of the house, shifting, to reveal their moving forms.
But they don’t seem husband and wife,
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poem by Marc Mannheimer
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