Poem by Meredith Betz
Slender trees like warps in a loom stretched taut
Broken reeds weft through them
overlaid by umber flags of the forest
outside my window,
a variegated cloth.
Leaves from the ancient oak
slowly dot the earth below.
The Weaver shuttles time.
Shadows cast patterns that split the lighted ground
into splinters of memories
of welcoming autumn
mounds of spent leaves
soon to be bonfires on the curb,
squealing with delight upon discovery
by my father now long gone.
Behind my glass pane,
I invoke my gleeful self to scoff at time.
Then I attend the retreating summer
Imagining riding a crimson leaf from the maple
like an ultralight plane
wafting, grinning, descending
toward my pillowing companions on the ground
nesting into the down below.
Meredith Betz is a former high school Communications/English teacher whose avocation is coaching students of all ages in writing and delivering presentations. Currently she writes for the Nonprofit Quarterly. Her vocation is executive coaching and organizational consulting to for profit and nonprofit organizations.