Last Cutting

[Ron Wallace (Scotshawk)]

Last Cutting

Rain and mist paint
          the sky
an October shade of grey
as I tug the felt brim
          to a perfect pitch above my eyes
slanting the drizzle off my face
and walk gravel to blacktop.

Everywhere
leaves have gone to ghosts,
and the lawn mower hum of summer
has faded
          with the first turn of green
to browns and gold.

A fringe of pale blades
gathers past unbudded rose thorns
          and beckons
          but not today;
the last cutting
waits a coming sun of bluer days.

[Tina (Firefly)]

Oh, Ron! I went on this Autumnal walk with you there in Oklahoma and then walked in my own yard seeing and hearing the same poetry. This doesn't need any 'fixing', although you might consider dropping the last line. I kinda like just ending with the words 'the last cutting.' We can envision for ourselves what 'waits. Good piece! Happy Autumn!! Tina

[Marion Poirier]

Hi Ron,
Good to see you here.
Great work as usual; I find nothing to
change except I tend to agree with
Tina that the last line could be
eliminated as too telling.

Regards,
Marion

[mfwilkie]

Ron,

What if you did this first stanza in the third person? And trimmed a bit.


Rain and mist paint
the sky
an October shade of grey
as I tug the felt brim
to a perfect pitch above my eyes
slanting the drizzle off my face
and walk gravel to blacktop.

I think when you mention brim you don't need to mention above the eyes.

Some thoughts:

Under greys of/from rain and mist
he sets his felt brim true—
a/the perfect pitch
that/to keep(s) the drizzle off his face

These hours of October
belong to rain and mist
as he sets his felt brim true—
it's the pitch of experience
and keeps the drizzle off his face—

The hum of summer has faded

Dig a little deeper into the imagery, Cowboy.

How about those Yankees!

Mags

[Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47]

You paint a lovely picture, Ron. Almost as the calm before the ensuing storm..........Blessed be the seasons, and the SeasonChanger.

[ramadevi]

Lovely, well phrased and very well spaced for dramatic pause effect.

The editor is playing games with you---these symbols clog your lines!
 the sky
 to a perfect pitch above my eyes
 with the first turn of green
 and beckons
 but not today;


Superb line---

Everywhere
leaves have gone to ghosts,

Very nice poem.

[alfredo]

I often thinks good poetry is all in the detail, careful, patient observation ..and this one has it all. I liked it

[antman]

Enjoyed the read Ron, blankets of snow keep
us here from partaking in such visuals.
Thanks for sharing.

anthony