Jim Carson – Four Poems


Far beyond the wretched diesel gray
Smoke of urban clamor
Still waters beckon

Far beyond the soulless towers of man
Cell and ivory
Glass and steel
Still waters soothe

Far beyond the last crumbling gravel path
The forest floor turns green
Embracing still waters
I drink but no liquid passes my lips
Feast on morsels only sensory
And breathe


The Splendor of Dying

The sugar maple leaves shimmer
purest yellowgold on a brisk November morning.
They writhe helplessly
against the clutches of a relentless north wind.
Some fail and are torn away from their homes
to disappear on the breeze
forever gone.
I wonder if there is sadness in the parting
and if they feel any pain,
but for some questions I guess there are no answers.
I am left only to wonder in awe
at the beauty of the dance
and the splendor of their dying.


If You Take the Time

Milk gray fog descends blurring leaf edge and limb
Settling into the crevices around seen objects
Filling the empty spaces once green
Cold creeping into every tiny crack wrapping around your spine
Until it locks up in anti shiver self defense
Bony ebon fingers claw at the sky as if reaching for something they
Breeze rustles the leaves-crumbling brown remnants of gold autumn harvest
The falling ones drift along at the whim of the currents
To light softly in no particular place like our own wandering lives
Seems a dead time of season but really just pause
Much to see if you take the time to listen
To hear if you take the time to look


Seizing Peachtree Street

Stately old codgers
Majestic oaks
Arch bony gnarled limbs
Over root crumbled pavement
Tiny buds peek out in emergence
Testament to another season lived
In defiance of the reaper
Azaleas and dogwoods explode
Stippled hues spot dotting the landscape as
A pointillist painting
Unfolding on leafy canvas
Spring leaps forth in a feline flash
Seizing Peachtree by the throat
Surely the nose tickling
Eye watering lung choking
Yellow fog can be only days away
The bees will be busy