Mr. Tumnus smiles at Circe’s silver kiss,
But cannot hide his vertigenesis.
Transformed anew, he once made maidens weep.
His cloven wand now slumbers in the keep.
The dying light does well to keep us hid.
Our fathers’ fight must vanquish what we bid.
Come! Let the lenten horn blow out the year.
Braid vintage leaves into a crown to wear.
From green to orange to brown to white,
We observe the passing of fancy’s flight.
Dear Lucipere brings love and hate in equal measure.
Three parts joy, three fear to satiate our treasure.
As the world’s year comes gradually to close,
I bid you what the White Witch never knows.
Always Winter, never Christmas is a solitary game,
But in reverse you will find the same.
The circle’s madness can transform us all,
And to each climber, there comes a Fall.
I wish for you a sweet harvest rain,
You will see me soon, when the Spring comes again.
Written today, September 24th by me
I spent the morning talking about Autumn, and the changing of the seasons. Then, one of my students decided to read The Chronicles of Narnia for his book reports, and I spent some time waxing nostalgic about what was, at one period of my life, my favorite series of books. So, at lunch, while I was waiting for my running partner to get ready, this poem sprung almost full-formed out of my head. I haven’t written a full poem in several years, but I’m (mostly) happy with this one. There are a few sticky lines, but its at the point where, if I change it any more, the whole thing may fall apart. Best to leave it alone and come back after some time has passed.