The eve of departure / Poem: Autumn Reverie

Fellow blogger Stephen Weinstein just commented on my previous blog: There is a very interesting book that concerns God and Hitler. It was written by an African American who is Jewish named Julius Lester. The title of the book is “The Autobiography of God.”

Jews have a proud tradition of questioning God. The precedent was set in the Book of Job. I'm definitely gonna read the book. Amazon readers gave it a great review. Great, now they'll say Ruthie, do WE have a good book for you. And they'll send me all their religious books. Spare me!

I rarely buy books. I'm a borrower. I like the soft pages of library books. Hundreds of eyes have pored over the words before mine. We are a fellowship of readers.

Ever heard of Rick Steves? He's the PBS travel author who takes the viewer on dreamy trips overseas. Turns out this guy this is a wonderful person, deeply religious, and a supporter of marijuana reform. Me too! Pass the reefer. I smoked enough in my 20s to last a lifetime and hey it wasn't a gateway into heroin, tho I did write a terrific poem about my one and only chance to try heroin. I was sitting on a friend's patio watching the ducks swim by her backyard creek while her boyfriend was up in the bathroom shooting heroin - or heron, as the black folks say - and I asked if I could have some.

He'll never let you, she said.

Oh, but he will, I said and ran upstairs and knocked on the door.

Come back in ten minutes, he said.

I guess he wanted to finish.

I went back down to the creek and watched the ducks swim by. I never budged.

So much for Nirvana.

Well, nirvana for me is looking at the beautiful scenery esp. the autumn leaves. My friend Marce who traveled from Philly all the way to California to live was the lucky winner of: Who wants to hear Ruthie's next poem and pretend they like it. Thanks, Marce, for saying it's pretty.

I wanted something more effusive.

Lemme call Carolyn and see what she says. Hold on a sec.

She really dug it. Said that my lone maple must be a Norway maple cuz they're the last to lose their green color. Once I had three of them in my backyard but like the Amazon forest I had the other two cut down so I could look for oil and buried treasure underneath.

AUTUMN REVERIE

at dusk
I come to the window
to think my thoughts
and watch for deer

it is a small backyard
with a lone maple tree
her leaves
not a one of them gold like the neighbors
have yet to tremble and fall
in deference perhaps to me
and my need for security
my need for warmth

a good wind came along yesterday
and further back in the little woods that divides me
from what I pretend are the mountains of Galatia
the leaves fled like tears
from the dogwood
I cried inside

down on the driveway
the patterns of leaves
stuck like many pointed stars
to the drive
I watched for random patterns
trying to figure out from them
the order that surely exists
in this universe
but failed

the red car parked across the street
for too many days
is unrecognizable today
covered as it is in many-fingered leaves
that hid the shape of the car and led this believer
to think it was a spaceship sent by god to remind
his erring nonattention-paying children
of the beauty of the day
ever fleeing
ever fled.