Of Parchment Scored
Old leaves litter
the forest floor,
sacred scraps
of parchment
scored
by a season’s hand;
children gather
each crinkled skin,
mustard and wine,
olive and gold,
as wizards and sages
gather a millennium’s
history, trace
cold fingers
across a page’s
wrinkles and ink,
discovering
the possibilities
of beauty,
the tragedies
of loss, hanging the solemn
passages of autumn
on the refrigerator door,
the stories mommy
and daddy must learn.
Twitter: @summerspoet
Editor’s Note: This poem encapsulates autumn, the history of writing, and the beginning of literacy… and then it somehow ties all of this into the emotional trauma of parenthood.
5 thoughts on “Of Parchment Scored by S. Thomas Summers”
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I have admired this poet for years. And this poem does not disappoint my expectations.
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Thank you for the kind words, Janice. God bless.
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When you’re famous, just remember! I reblogged it first! 😀 It’s very mythical and magical. And it’s about my favorite thing, of course — leaves! Very proud to be watching your career take off.
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I have a long way to go, but the gettin’ there is fun.
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