Poetry by Susan Zwingli
I can’t afford to miss
the autumn leaves this year;
my hands, so busy with mend and tear,
eyes blurred by loss
I could overlook
the changing tender veins, leafy points igniting
tangerine, vermillion, golden sparks
as they scatter, trembling,
joyful, even in free-fall
I must not miss their fire
because of my own steady burning;
unearthing ash where once
only vibrant color lived
Soon, frosty windows will frame
the turning, returning, to sacred ground
and I will feel the chlorophyl surrendering, oxygen releasing;
taste autumn’s tangy bitter sweetness;
behold the way falling leaves hold the light
even as they die
Susan Zwingli currently lives in Henrico, Virginia. She holds a BA in English, an MA in Spiritual Formation, and writes about nature, relationships, spirituality, and life beyond loss. Susan’s poems have been published by the One Page Poetry Anthology (2023/2024) and The Bluebird Word (2024).
