The Rains Of Autumn

Autumn Rain

There’s a woman washing her car

In the parking lot across the street

The bus chugs by beneath my window,

With twenty-minute regularity

The days are still and cold and damp,

A miserly amount of sunlight barely

Lights the trees as they shed the

Last of their faded leaves and

Coat the rain-wet streets below

It seems these days I write only of

The weather, but it touches everyone

It makes me think of “Pleasantville”,

The black and whiteness of it all

And then the aliveness of the color

Oh, most of all I miss the color

When the rains of autumn come to call

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Posted in: Melody J Haislip, Poetry
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About the Author:

Born in a small, Illinois log cabin. No, that won't work. The pampered only child of incredibly wealthy parents. No, that doesn't fly either. Raised by French nuns after her aristocratic parents were beheaded. No, that's been done! An East Coast transplant to the Pacific Northwest, this notoriously late bloomer began her new life with a new career as a writer and blogger. She has taken to both the new location and the career move like a duck to water. Writing for Expats Post is a new adventure, and our intrepid risk-taker is diving in, feeling right at home with so many old friends.
Reached for comment she replied, "Okay, I wrote my bio, may I Please go out and play?"
We expect great, or perhaps merely more coherent, things from this writer. (Okay, that's a wrap. What a wacko!)

  • Love It.

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    • Thank you, Dean, but is that you or the Merlot talking? 😀

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      • Melody, even without the wine, this is a wonderful piece of poetry. I still love it! Write on!

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        • Thank you, Dean, you are as gracious as you are kind ~ in your cups or no!

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  • Cher Duncombe

    Always a joy to see life through your eyes, Melody, in poetic phrases. Terrific!

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    • Cher, thank you. My eyes are your eyes!

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