[Deborah J. Shore]

Hi, Christine,

I like how this poem surprises by celebrating the spent-ness of fall rather than its vivid colors—also “the sky is pure as slate,” which strikes me as droll. “My heart lives here” strikes me as relatable. Pulling in “what’s beyond” is also perfectly suited.

I’m left wondering if there’s a stronger closing rhyme than bad/glad. I do like it as is. And someone whose heart lives in the spent season might well need to remind themselves to be glad even after noticing how much they like that season. I just think I’d just be curious about playing with the effects of other statements if this were mine.

Good to read you!
Deborah

[Christine P'legion]

Hi Deborah, welcome to the board, and thanks for your thoughts. The rhyme choices in the second and third stanzas are something I need to mull over a bit.