- Fall, Star City by JC Reilly
The blush has crept into the leaves,
as sunshine, sanguine with the months
of growing, cools its fire. The light
that we get now is maizy, saturates
everything with extract of gold, even
the dogged verdigris of the Sower
filling his bag, even the blacks
of shadow and pavement.
Mornings crisp, like new apples,
glow with that rich, amber sheen,
warm only in its hue. Along 13th,
the maples and Bradford pears leaning
over the walks, buckled with roots,
gleam too, their discarded leaves
like frenzied handprints. You could say
that autumn in Lincoln is tumult
gilded by late September sun, the leaves
stabs of color in over-yellowed air,
so much yellow concentrated here
that spectrums everywhere else are bereft.
(previously published in Stones Throw Magazine: http://www.stonesthrowmaga
JC Reilly wishes everything could be written as a poem, including editorials, cereal ads, and weather reports. She is a displaced Louisiana poet living in Atlanta, with two strange cats and a quirky Socialist husband. Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in the Xavier Review, the Arkansas Review, Cider Press Review, and three online journals, Ouroboros Review, Sweet: a Literary Confection, and Stone’s Throw Magazine.