Ok, so perhaps the title of this post is a little off the hook. It will be ok. I tried writing a nonet. I think you will get the drift as you read it.
Today I was asked if the poems I am writing are “autobiographical” in nature. I would say that, while the poems do indeed come from my experience, they are not necessarily about me personally. I look around for things that interest me and I jot in my little notebooks. This particular poem comes from my own front yard.
Pacific Sunset So the maple tree withers away Its branches curling on themselves New leaves never budding out Moss and lichen growing Returning to dust Weakened by time and weather... Cut down gone.
Cheers!
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