Northwest Autumn

It is three weeks until Autumn Equinox 2022. I first wrote and published this piece in 2008, significantly revised it in 2018, sharing it again on dVerse in response to a wonderful prompt by Amaya Engleking. I now have further refined it in small ways, and choose to share it again here in 2022. Much has changed in the 14 years since I first wrote this, but not my love for the Pacific Northwest, and most especially — Oregon. It is in the light of this abiding love, that I now share this piece once more here on dVerse, for OLN, September 1st, 2022. Peace!

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Autumn is upon us, as we enter our season of nature’s rest and replenishment here in the Pacific Northwest. The cycle of renewal will begin in western Oregon, where I lived for 25 years. I moved in 2015 to Seattle to be near my young grandson. Still immersed in Pacific Northwest beauty here, but Oregon will always hold my heart.

The summer’s dry period has ended, and agricultural irrigation has ceased. Harvesting explodes in October into November, including the grape harvest in our many vineyards. Following the gathering of this autumn bounty, the soil is left to recover. The fruit and nut trees, the vines in the vineyards, and the crop fields will begin the slow period of winter revitalization, in anticipation of the growing seasons to come in the new year. The Great Mandala of life turns steady. The rains that begin sporadically in late October, increasing into November, will work their magic — plumping Oregon’s world-class Christmas tree and holly crops, renewing the sparkle of these holiday icons, readying them for harvest.

Wild nature will also enter a period of recovery and renewal. The flowering plants that have dropped their petals, and the grasses and brush, gone late-summer golden, seek these nurturing rains. Mighty evergreens pause, conifers drop their cones, and deciduous trees shed their leaves all go dormant, and rest. The vast Northwest forests are enriched by this period of rejuvenation.

Streams, whose water levels have dropped considerably, will come to new life when rains begin to replenish their flow. Sockeye and Chinook salmon start their run upstream to begin their spawn. Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout, as well as numerous other species become active as waters rise and cool. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; the varied and plentiful wildlife of our region begin preparation for their unique winter rituals.

Autumn nudges into winter, a peaceful time of rest and restoration here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as the season of sky-water arrives to quench nature’s thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia.

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Just as the gardener
nurtures her tend
bending close
to nourish
and protect

so too nature stoops
to embrace
and refresh
her pacific northwest paradise

her autumn shadow upon the land
she leans down
and lets flow life-giving waters
to enrich this lush realm

she covers her beloved eden
in a soft blanket
of moist cloud

a shelter from chilled winter
to insure a rich bounty
when spring returns

abundant fruits
vegetables
and nuts

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hill-climbing vineyards

towering trees
too numerous to imagine

endless grasses
bushes
berries
and flowers

all will be spring succulent
from buildiing winter waters

mountain streams
valley rivers
swell with migrating fish

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as they journey home
up these fresh waters
of new birth

birds and animals
flock and gather
embraced by this season
of quiet replenish

in balanced step
and close harmony
with this cycle
they too
will welcome next spring
with plentiful new life

a sustaining love
this affair

life
nurtured to flourish
in the eventual spring

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*

published: rob kistner © 2008
revised: rob kistner © 2018
final revision: rob kistner © 2022

* More poetry at: dVerse

photos (top to bottom):

  • Autumn at Multnomah Falls, Oregon
  • Oregon Autumn rain on conifer needles
  • Autumn at Sokol Blosser Vineyards, Willamette Valley Oregon
  • Sockeye salmon, Deschutes River, Oregon
  • Autumn Cascade Mountain Lake, Oregon
  • Sweetest Taboo


     

    S ucculent nectar of full plumped peach
    laid bare engorged deliciousness
    peeled open in promised sweet delight
    ecstatic vision of tender flesh

    tart sweet tingle at tip of tongue
    such sweetness surely is taboo
    my mouth thrills at the juicy pulp
    my lips glisten sweetest nectar’s dew

    breathing in the rich bouquet
    all senses teased and tantalized
    my mouth devours the dripping treat
    again and again ‘til satisfied

    *
    rob kistner © 2021

    Poetry at: dVerse


     

    To Us


    To all d’Verse poets — Salùte!

     
    L et us drink deep
    this wine of friendship
    ripened well with time
    aged to a vintage true

    may this nectar rare
    sweeten all our days
    may its heady warmth
    linger long and lush
    lighten life’s burdens
    and ever lift our spirits

    here’s to us!

    rob kistner © 2021

    More poetry at: dVerse


     

    Time’s Window

    “This is the 4th anniversary of my wife Kathleen and I moving to Seattle to be with our grandson Alex. I posted this new piece containing mindful reflections on leaving our home in Oregon, and our new Seattle home. The photos are of our Oregon yard in the Cascade Mountain foothills. That is my wife Kathy standing under, and peering up into our 2 giant banana palms. The poem is just below the photos.“

    96A0D5B9-69EF-49DB-BE33-C1347DFE7938

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    8406EEC5-F134-4D0F-AF92-19D3B1F79A86

     

    Time’s Window
    ~


    we now have a wonderful
    new Seattle home
    shared with family
    ruled by my little guy
    my precious 6-year-old grandson
    and I know sweet happiness

    but there are moments
    with eyes closed
    I can gaze back
    through time’s window

    I see my beloved Oregon home
    of 25 amazing years
    vividly alive this morning
    here in my memories…

    through my window this day
    I see the scurry of creatures
    warmed by the Oregon summer

    I hear nature
    in splendid voice

    the chuff
    of a tree’d red squirrel

    the song
    chirp
    and trill of birds

    chickadee
    goldfinch
    western bluebird
    and others

    fly
    flutter
    and flit

    in a flash of orange
    a striking northern flicker
    momentarily eschewing insects
    is peck peck pecking
    cracking black-oil sunflower seeds
    that spill from our feeder

    a red-tailed hawk
    calls
    from atop a Sitka spruce
    swaying
    in the crisp blue sky

    the muffled belling of a deer
    wandering the safety of old-growth
    whispers
    through the foothills

    the distant bark
    of a neighbor’s dog
    echoing the basin
    up along our stream
    reminds me
    we have friends nearby

    my wife’s
    gentle laughter
    validates the friendship

    her tender smile
    validates our love

    the rustle of leaves
    stirred by the breeze
    wafting through the valley

    smartly punctuated
    by the staccato
    of conifer cones
    that fall
    from time to time
    wrested free by chickaree
    and chipmunk
    chattering high in Douglas fir
    busy with their forage

    wap wap wap

    they bounce off our roof
    striking the ground

    closely followed
    by the scamper
    of their liberators
    crunching their way
    to the heart-meat of the cone
    the delicacy
    that elicits this furious industry

    drifting in the window
    intoxicating fragrances

    cedar
    pine
    fir

    lily
    rose
    lilac

    grasses
    loam
    and more

    a rich
    earthy bouquet

    caught in my reverie
    I breathe in
    deeply
    to suddenly remember

    …I’m not in my Oregon home
    I am in my new Seattle home
    and it’s filled to overflowing
    with family
    and love

    for a moment
    I do not open my eyes
    I linger a bit longer
    in my beautiful dream
    of my Oregon

    my heart will forever be there
    but we will likely never go back
    not until my ashes are spread
    high in the Cascade Mountains
    on Mt. Hood
    across breathtaking Lost Lake

    but here
    now
    on this day
    filled with memories
    and joy
    a solitary tear
    falls

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019


     
    This new write was a remarkably mind purifying write for me. Click to see how others are purifying their minds on dVerse:

    Poetics- Purifying the Mind

     

  • Click to check out the haps at Toads
  • Baby Cakes

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #22 at We Write Poems.

    Baby Cakes

    •

    crave the taste
    of my baby cakes
    seven minutes
    is all it takes

    gotta whip ‘em up
    nice and creamy
    mouthwaterin’
    moist and steamy

    oh do not rush
    you better not
    gotta get that
    little oven hot

    spread ‘em thick
    but not too quick
    steady stirrin’
    will do the trick

    ease ’em in
    slide ’em out
    hot buttered lovin’
    fresh from the oven

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    To Soar

    This poem is offered in response to prompt #23 for 2010 at Writer’s Island,
    the Ginsberg ‘american sentence’ is offered in response to prompt #136 at One Single Impression.

    To Soar

    •

    to feel the warmth of early spring sun
    to wander through old growth
    to see the sunset into the pacific
    to breath in the fragrance of summer
    to see joy in another’s eyes
    to hear my child’s laughter
    to be breath-taken by art
    to be dazzled by autumn’s palette
    to taste the richness of chocolate
    to immerse in the rhythms of music
    to see the morning dew sparkle
    to hear the sweet lilt of a thrush
    to know the quiet of snowfall
    to raise my voice in song
    to drift on a clear mountain lake
    to get lost in poetry
    to feel your gentle touch

    …is to soar

    • • •

    to just try to fly is to fall short, one must expect to soar, then leap

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    Breakfast Lovers Fanatsy

    …I wrote this in response to the July 5th prompt at Big Tent Poetry


     

    Breakfast Lovers Fantasy

    •

    whether panning for poached
    fishing for fried
    or sifting for softly scrambled

    maybe bobbing for boiled
    or sunny side up
    angling for over easy

    perhaps baiting a hook
    for benedict
    or dangling a lure for deviled

    be they baked in cakes
    or dropped in soup
    it’s a whites & yolks wet dream

    it’s a breakfast lovers fantasy
    going to the eggs stream

    • • •

    rob kistner © 2010

    • manipulated photo entitled: “PanFish” — created by: rob kistner

    NaPoWriMo #25

    This is my twenty-fifth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Joseph Harker’s day 25 prompt at read write poem

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    Hotaslava

    •

    I will not forget you

    memory still burns
    tearful recollection of the first time
    my eyes beheld your luscious curves

    skin smooth as satin
    golden as you lay before me
    seductive in the summer sun

    you fired my imagination
    ignited my soul

    I wanted you so badly
    my lips trembled
    you promised such sweetness

    but I’d been warned by others
    who had dared indulge your fiery charms
    that it would end in tears

    I did not heed their counsel

    seduced
    I fell upon you hungrily
    taking you in passion’s flames
    hot as lava
    scorching as an august sun

    swept away
    I consumed your charms
    an inferno of desire

    tasting your forbidden fruit
    in a wanton blaze I took my fill

    but just as quick it ended

    I should have listened
    they knew you all too well

    you burned me badly
    and left me crying

    but I never will forget you…

    …habanero

    • • •



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    Coldasice

    •

    drips pizzicato

    crescendo of icicles

    north wind’s cadenza

    wintertime’s crisp symphony

    played on nature’s outdoor stage

    • • •


    • poem and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the other spontaneity at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #23 – Skyward Suite / Midnight Gliding

    This is my twenty-third post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • one free verse poem
    • one three-poem suite

    • one tanka

    ____________________________________

    • the first poem is inspired by Sage Cohen’s day 23 prompt at read write poem

    ____________________________________




    Spread Offense

    •

    …making PB&J, as a wrestling match…


    it appears everything is ready
    for a great competition today

    this has been the moment
    we’ve anticipated
    since the TV was paused
    some 5 to 6 minutes ago

    the first jar has made its appearance
    I see the knife on the sideline
    and the napkins indicate
    they are ready
    standing by
    in case of accident

    hands baxter signals
    he’s ready

    looks like tonight it will be wood
    yes
    it is
    the wood cutting board for this one
    and it seems to be
    it is
    recycled material
    well done

    hands is reaching across the table now
    grabbing hold of the plastic flap
    he’s got a solid grip on the bread
    with a swift and practiced maneuver
    he wrestles two pieces to their backs
    firmly on the board

    he now grabs the jar by the lid
    raises it to his chest
    and
    and
    he’s struggling
    can’t seem to…
    no wait
    hands has done it
    the lid is free of the jar

    he now has the knife in his right hand
    and with deep probing jabs
    he’s bringing blade full
    after blade full
    with deft swirling motions
    from the jar
    and spreading it layer after layer
    on the helpless bread
    unable to budge from the board

    we just got a report
    that the bread is indeed
    honey oat nut
    these are all first string players in this one

    well
    it appears hands has won the first
    of what will be three contests
    he has successfully achieved P and B tonight
    and with great flair

    no drops
    goops
    no tears

    masterfully done

    there was that incident
    with the tongue on the flat of the blade
    but it was apparently a clean move
    so no penalty assessed

    we’re out of time for now
    we will have to wait until next time
    to see if grape
    the big jar
    makes it into the match
    as hands baxter will be going for J
    in the next round

    if he can make it that far
    then the big finale will be milk
    so don’t miss that one

    this is voice gruffly signing off
    inviting you to stay with us
    through this PB&J regional series
    to see if baxter builds a big one

    that’s all from here

    • • •


    ____________________________________


    Skyward Suite




    I Am Balloon

    •

    I will see the earth today
    as the heated air
    fills my billows
    I am aloft
    in free floating flight
    to abandon all control

    I will resound to the earthbound
    listen to their voices rise

    tune to the animals
    their symphony of sounds

    I will drift as far and as long
    as fuel and time permits
    feel the wind take me

    I will soar so high
    leave the treetops
    far below
    until all I hear
    is the voice of the breeze

    see the world
    bend away
    over the horizons

    see all it’s wonders
    all of nature
    the random
    and the regimented
    the wild
    and geometric

    I will see it all
    from a different perspective

    swept up in ever-climbing
    silent ascent



    • • •




    I Am Bird

    •

    I will glide
    in buoyed flight

    I will soar skyward
    in sweeping circles

    lift high on mighty thermals
    never again to be earthbound

    not a prisoner of this stone and clay
    no longer captive of gravity today

    this day will be soaring
    and swooping
    and diving

    giving thanks for feathers
    and hollow bones



    • • •




    I Am Kite

    •

    the breeze of promise begins to freshen
    waft and build
    it gathers strength

    belief awakens
    I quicken
    anticipation spirals anew

    the building currents draw taut my line
    with an urgent tug the moment arrives

    I billow
    stand and dance
    my sail-skin fills

    my leading edge
    aerodynamic
    sculpted tight against my frame

    caught full by the mounting breeze
    I lift with grace
    rise with purpose

    deft hands
    and a most careful eye
    guide me safely airborne

    further faster I ascend
    carried skyward on friendly drafts

    empowered by winds of fortune
    this day I have taken flight

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Midnight Gliding

    •

    high meadow sparkles

    crisp snow crunches under skis

    midnight cross country

    the landscape glows alien

    like gliding across the moon

    • • •


    • poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the other odd couples at readwritepoem

    NaPoWriMo #20 – Heroes

    This is my twentieth post for National Poetry Month 2010
    • two free verse poem
    • one tanka


    ____________________________________

    • inspired by Jessica GC’s prompt at read write poem

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    Reality At 30,000

    •

    (a hero returns)

    distant
    slurred
    reverberant

    like a voice in a canyon
    I hear her calling in my mind
    my name
    rolling sweet as nectar
    from lips soft as orchid petals
    full as a bursting peach
    glistening deep coral
    as they wrapped softly
    ‘round each pouted syllable
    when she bid me tender farewell
    so long ago

    our fingertips had strained to grasp
    until the final sensation of warmth
    of touch
    had faded
    and they had drifted apart

    I had struggled to tear my eyes
    from her tears
    that glistened on her lashes
    and around her swollen crystal blue eyes
    to slip softly over the crests
    of her velvet cheeks
    then down the contour of her face
    flushed as sunset
    to lightly salt her quivering lips

    and as I passed
    numb and dazed
    through the tunnel of the loading gate
    toward the jet
    that took me to hell
    I had at that moment
    locked the image
    of that sorrowed face of love
    deep in my heart

    It had proved my salvation
    my only grasp on sanity
    in those horrific years
    over there

    my lips too had quivered on that day
    with the sting of separation
    and the chilling knowledge
    I would soon taste the bitter blood of war
    foul with the stench of death

    having not yet departed
    I had already longed to gaze again
    into her brilliant blue eyes
    and taste her sweetness

    yet

    as I return this day
    trying to face reality
    from 30,000 feet
    I taste the salt of sadness

    for I fear
    a kiss from me
    with my killer’s mouth
    will forever defile the fragile innocence
    of those luscious lips
    soft as orchid petals
    full as a bursting peach
    that glistened
    and quivered
    when last we parted

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


     

    Eternal

    •

    tears on flushed pale cheeks

    warm held hand grows cool and still

    she has left this earth

    my love is now eternal

    how do I face tomorrow

    • • •

     

    ____________________________________


    …here is a bonus “whimsical” poem written in response to the day 19 prompt at poetic aside


     

    Phineas & Phlo

    •

    phineas morton is not a happy guy
    that’s not to say he’s sad
    he just decided long ago
    not to live life on the extremes
    so he would describe himself as
    well
    as centered
    yes
    phineas morton is a centered guy

    he lives in the abandoned hull
    of a short
    yellow
    school bus
    left there by his parents
    when he was 12
    as they went off to find
    well
    to find happiness

    this situation may also account
    for his less than enthusiastic embrace
    of the whole concept of
    well
    of happiness

    phineas dreams of
    someday
    doing something
    something
    well
    something interesting
    shunning the extreme nature
    of
    of great
    he is not really interested
    in doing something
    great
    interesting will do just fine

    he has a girlfriend
    well
    sort of a girlfriend
    more like a
    well
    like a girl acquaintance
    that sounds less “on the edge”
    which suits his centeredness
    just fine

    her name is flo
    though she has come to spell it
    phlo
    as an expression
    of her affinity for phineas
    you know
    phineas and phlo
    the whole ph
    sounds like f
    thing
    you know f
    fuh f fuh

    well
    anyway
    phineas wants everyone to know
    that while he waits for his
    interesting life to begin
    he can be found
    out by ole’ doc patterson’s pond
    in his shell of a bus

    you’re more than welcome to come by
    just
    if you do
    don’t be too happy
    if you know what I mean
    doesn’t sit well with the lad

    so if you come by
    bring some jelly beans
    red jelly beans
    because
    well
    just because

    and a tip from me
    if you do drop in on phineas
    don’t be clever
    you know
    don’t make any wisecracks about
    well
    no “short bus” remarks
    ok

    ok

    • • •



    • poems and tanka by: rob kistner © 2010

    ____________________________________

    …check out the other heroes at readwritepoem