Exhale swift, what crimson breeze;
Amber crisp and fuchsia
Colors adorn leaves on the trees
Their coats of misty rouge.

And clap, applaud with festive show
Aware not of the scent;
The musky smell of rot and woe
Swoop, glide on currents brisk.

Finger tips reaching for the ground;
Zealous to make the fall.
Release and drop, then earthen bound;
Raining in spurts and spasms, float.

Shuffle and huddle with old friends,
Clatter with spunk, high-fives;
Reunion of final amends,
Starting gate to the end.

Catch a breeze and on edge they roll;
Frolic, gunny sack hops,
Bounce obedient ‘cross threshold,
Wave bye to ashen trunks.


Cynthia Thornton Herrera is an English teacher and poet living in Spring, Texas. She has been writing poetry since a child. Having grown up on a farm in Nebraska, nature supplied her inspiration to write, and life experiences have continued to provide a relentless source of subjects. Her work has appeared in: National Poetry Press Young America Sings series, American Poetry Association anthologies, Beginnings, Promise, Inkling, Star Burst, the Phi Theta Kappa Nota Bene anthology, The Houston Literary Review and the Society of Classical Poets online journal.

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3 Responses

  1. Michael Dashiell

    I like this poem’s liveliness and energy that brightens autumn’s decline as a topic. I see also see you used a unique variation of the usual rhyming structure of a quatrain. The word choices are precise and original.

  2. Ruth Asch

    Rich and varied diction here makes reading the poem almost a tactile experience.

  3. Cynthia Thornton Herrera

    Thank you so much for your comments. This poem was written almost exactly three years ago when my husband and I went golfing. It was a beautiful, crisp fall day; just before the first major cold front moved through. (Here in Texas, our cold spells are short, and unless there is ice on the greens, one can golf year-round.) It was so quiet and serene that day; we had the golf course practically to ourselves. I had my camera and took several pictures, but while moving through this landscape and observing the sights and sounds, the words started pouring out. I did use an unusual rhyming scheme, but this is what came out from the first line to the last. There were sudden bursts of wind occasionally, and I really did see the leaves tipping up on edge and rolling; even hopping about all in one direction like they knew it was time to gather and move on. I just love nature.



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