Posted by: Peadar Ban | November 14, 2009

Fallen Blood

Old Man Sitting in Fallen Blood(For Kathy)

The arms of oak are bare at last
Their subtle leaves fallen to the ground
Atop lawn’s late brilliant green.  Brown
They lie.  Still.  Brutal, Autumn rain blasts
Through the bare dark woods, black
Trunks, blacker shadows down
Where leaves no longer move,
But rest, and resting, wait for what?
There will be no resurrection for these.
Futile are the prayers of trees.

Could they not have plead
The season and the time,
As time with lack of feeling fled,
To stay, please, some little while
And allow, with all the grace of years
Since gone, some moments more
Upon their separate limbs to display
The muted baritones and bass
Of this season’s beauty’s symphony?

But no, they fell, and skies are swept
And bare trees sway as storms weep
The closing movement of the year
While one lone maple stands there
Nearly naked in the afternoon
And one old man sits in its fallen blood.


  1. Well done, O Poet Laureate of Kingsbridge! I like it, truly.

    • Friar, My Love,

      You are very welcome, too. Though, I don’t think myself worthy of the accolade. Most of the fellows we hung with in various watering holes could do as well, I think.


  2. Thanks for this Peter.
    I received a free ticket to the MET and watched The Damnation of Faust yesterday. There is a scene where Faust is beseeching Nature under the autumn trees. As Mephistopheles approaches Faust, each tree withers. And when Faust signs the parchment, the last remaining canopy of leaves disappears. Visually striking.

    • You are very welcome, Joseph.

      Ahh, the Met. I was an usher there for several of my college years.

      Back to the leaves…I watched them fall in torrents yesterday, and it could have been the same scene. perhaps, next year, I’ll pick a similar day and watch them to the music.


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