Autumn
First published in The Wise Owl, November 17, 2023
I used to like autumn.
We have colourful autumnal flowers in the fields.
Red spider lily.
Canada goldenrod.
They are free from human control, and
decorate gloomy brown fields as they wish
with ruddy faces and golden slender figures.
Once, autumn had boisterous flower parades
in my eyes.
They were lively and noisy, and no less mirthful
than those of spring.
It was a joy to witness their arrival,
even though they stayed in this world
for only a passing season.
I didn’t mind.
I still welcomed their fleeting visit
and sent them off generously.
Then, I looked forward to winter
while expecting Christmas
and a Happy New Year.
I loved autumn.
But this year,
I can’t celebrate autumn
irrespective of its boast of splendid flowers.
Because my flowers in the balcony
that have survived a sizzling summer
on her grave
—once having exhibited their beautiful figures
as she did—
now squat and grab onto poles
to support themselves,
as they wither
with each passing day
until they fall onto the soil.
That reminds me of her last days.
Yesterday,
you asked me to take
pictures of these autumnal flowers
blooming in the fields with abandon.
“We don’t have autumn
in our tropical island,”
you said.
“You are lucky,”
I said voiceless
in my mind.
I was grateful to you
for sharing my grief
on the night when I lost her.
It was in spring.
I'll send you the pictures of
red spider lily and
Canada goldenrod.
Winter is just around the corner
in my balcony.