TRAGIC Poem: When Leaves Become Traffic Lines, by Jacky D. Otto

The season is changing.
It can’t be helped.
Complaining won’t stop
leaves draping my car
under a blanket of
bold orange and blood red.
The wipers work,
but that doesn’t dissuade
the smell of
pumpkin spice lattes
that infect the nose.
This seasons lack
of subtlety
is annoying.
The change.
The slow kind like the blend
from winter to spring,
is soft on the
senses
as a cashmere blanket
or a lovers embrace.
Still, I’ll drive with
the windows down,
embracing the stinging wind,
the shade from leaves
coloring my skin
whatever it desires,
and bits of blanket
permeating through
The car.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest