Something a Little Different

  Hey, Musing Matt here and we are going to do something a little different today. Since I have two mid-terms, two projects, and a paper due this coming week I will be spending this weekend studying, writing, and injecting caffeine directly into my veins. So, in lieu of a thoughtful and poignant column about the condition of art or a commentary on the products of the film industry I will share with you a poem that I wrote last year after I witnessed something that deeply troubled me...

Leaves and Acorns

by Matt Cox

I walk the ground.

The path of solid, broken bricks

is to my left

or right.

It all depends on where I’m going.

I walk the path,

only when it passes beneath

my close-toed shoes.

When I no longer need its support,

we part ways.

Maybe we’ll meet again.

The leaves of red, orange, yellow,

and green scatter,

as I scuff my way through them.

The acorns sound off

with a satisfying crack.

When immersed in their song

yesterday’s horrors seem gone

and forgotten,

but they remain

in every Fall- 

among the leaves and acorns.

  

When fertile autumn storms

announce their intentions,

caution gives birth to chaos,

and all pray they don’t become

it’s toys.

The twisted skeletons of the cautious

were carried away

but pieces of them remain.

Red bumper, green fender, and an orange side mirror

lie scattered across the highway’s left,

but it’s the right that ensnared me.

Two forms,

human in shape

but empty and still,

lay on wet asphalt,

draped in a yellow tarp

as if the dead desire dignity.

There is no rest from the dream,

leaves and acorns only sing once a year,

and wet stone provides no comfort.

  You all have a great weekend and try to stay safe out there.