A Song of Fall
Let me sing a song of fall for you,
When the white clouds drift in the blue sky,
The giant gingko tree dons a halo of lemon,
And students in scarves and sweaters bike by.
Let me sing a song of fall for you,
When you are fondling a spring sprig from childhood,
Watching yourself befuddled by the empty misty valley,
Disturbed by a cuckoo looking for parents.
Let me sing a song of fall for you,
When you still have the summer rose in your book,
Feeling the pain of that pig-tail girl’s departure
Into the shadow of the rosebush wall.
Let me sing a song of fall for you.
I will sing a song of fall for you.
Hope you will sing along.
Please forget every false pulse in seasons of life,
Look around: the fall has come.
The fall has come with a pallet,
Tingeing hues of warmth wherever it touches.
You can see red maples and yellow poplars all over Beijing
And smiling orange pumpkin regiment in Boyd Orchards.
The fall has come with a magic,
Seaming up hiatuses of heart with delight.
You tremble at a baby’s wet kisses of corn smell.
You give a stretched hug to a long lost friend.
Let us sing a song of fall.
Let us build a winter house together.
Let us invite everybody in.
We will also have Virginia Woolf as a guest
Coming after her meandering journey along
The confusing river bank.
She will dry her clothes by the fireplace
And cleanse from her face spring dirt and summer mud.
Holding a brown gingko leaf in her hand,
In the lounge full of sunshine sent in by the reflecting snow,
She will read us A Room of One’s Own.
(Originally written on September 24, 2009)
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