Author's Preamble: I'm not quite sure where to categorize this under, but just a little more about this piece. The title and concept originally belonged to another poem of mine, lost in a test of time due to my failure to preserve my writings. Can't bring myself to remember the whole thing, so I wrote it in a prose and added a little more story behind it.

Enjoy.

Edited: See footnotes for changes.


Rehash - Rose amidst an autumn

There was the fresh bed of fallen leaves blanketing the forest with yellow under the sparse canopy. Svelte naked branches were wet with the morning rain, wafting a potpourri of scents... of earth, and damp, rotting logs, of the last remaining straw of grass– it was the orchestra of smells...the collective harmony played in a low key, their presence graced on the stage that is the early breeze... formless and heavy, yet sweet and flowing.

There were also the crisp high notes, the crystal trickle of translucent liquid, a steady stream of fresh dew melted from the ice-caps sitting on top of the gray, rocky mountain. They slithered and traversed through the smooth, round rocks, their chill sparked smooth melodies, constant, in infinity.

The human's back pressed against the old chestnut tree, chafing against its patterned skin, touching its peeling bark and indulging in its oldness and age. Critters and insects were its tenants, and it became their living sanctuary; the New England Cottontail rabbit, the young patriarch of his family of six, took residence in the cradle of its roots. His stoutly built body squeezed out of his burrow to see if the human was still there, twitching his short ears to listen, nose sniffed his vicinity and quickly chewed on an itchy spot in over his own blackish, stubbly coat.

He stretched his eyes as highly as he could and squinted slightly to the accidental meeting of the sun's transitory glare...through a gap in the clouds, playing a game of Charade in the different forms they took in imagination – a squirrelfish, the thinking man, a speeding vehicle...abstractly vivid, purely subjective, fleetingly transcendental.

And before the scorching ball of fire, now shadowed by the clouds, the rabbit finally saw the full figure of the human, shoulders draped with denim jacket one size too small, coloured in a blue tone, lightly faded across the coarse texture. The fabric wrapped down the arms... swathed around the underarms, hugging snugly down and around the slender midriff, to the lower half, continued on by pair of heavy Khakis weaved with nylon cotton fabric, fastened and tightened by a nylon-web belt around the waist, connected by a square, steel buckle.

The human was stationary, imprinting and depressing the wet field that was flooded with late autumn's leaves, holding still the sweet, pure droplets from dawn - unchlorinated, pure, unpolluted... the showers from the skies had now found their way to be absorbed into the human's clothes, not ignoring the fat, soft-yellow manila folder resting beside the human.

Between the human's fingers dangled a pencil, the black carbon still fresh with residues from sharpening, moving in wide arches on a white paper; continuously tapping the board that was holding the human's art... constantly making odd noises of marks and scratches.

The rabbit grew bolder, hopping steadily next to the folder where a chestnut dropped, his short, dumpy nose sampling its smell...but quickly turned away, rather to look for a green blade of grass, where there were none in sight across the endless stretch of yellow. With a stretch, and a push to the hind legs, he stood up, his wet, tiny hands held up to balance while his nose reached even higher to catch the breeze, to catch particles of smell that would lead him to his simple cravings...

The wet, cold wind had already brought the ill news, the air that was devoid, yet filled with hints, telling him of it was already the time, the inevitable interlude to a bitterly cold winter, the limbo of idleness and bustle, the bringer of powdery snow. The wind was full of hints...trees would shed the last of their leaves, flowers like white daisies and red petunias had already withered, fruits of apples and wild cherries would no longer produce, birds of sparrows and doves would soon flock to a warmer place, and critters of all manner, big or small, would sleep soundly through the entire coming cold season.

A shadow loomed the fields, the distant skies rang with a muffled boom, and the white, puffy clouds soon swelled in size and shed their whiteness to a heavy, marble black. They now moved quicker, riding on the winds that picked themselves up...winds that swept across the wet, yellow fields and pushed the lazy leaves in waves to soar the skies...through hollow, mouldy stumps, through skeletal, leafless, branches...intertwined, and dancing furiously only for a brief second.

Then they fell again in unison like rain.

Only yellow in colour.

Gentler in descent.

Slower in motion.

All just before winter would come, when the white snow would precede them, to blanket over them... before they completely disappeared into the earth.

And in the midst, the rabbit caught a glimpse of the open folder, its contents missing. He searched everywhere, and spotted them. They were now mingling with the yellow leafs in their journey back to the ground.

It was easy to spot...pieces of large whites, with shades of black, sketched - greyscale drawings of nothing but full summer blooms, of endless fields of flowers, of creatures and birds that dined in a forest, a forest of life. And it was a mere pencil, a single shade succeeded in capturing the full colours of a sunny summer... immortalizing the heat, the warmth, the sheer exhilaration.

The second wind arrived once more, a sharper gust that made the rabbit blink and squint... rooting himself even more firmly to the ground as it passed through his dark-brownish fur. More leafs plucked out from their homes, another reason to quickly find breakfast. But perhaps, it was too late... flowers had already wither, fruits no longer produced...the yellow field had turned to silence, lifeless, and with colours less vivid than even the black drawings. Birds were no longer to be seen, his rabbits of neighbours had probably began their long sleep.

The rabbit turned around; it was time to go home, to tell his offspring the coming of winter, to throw his girth next to his children, to warm them in the cold...but he stopped and his eyes searched the unmoving human. Still holding on to the pencil, unflinchingly sketching, the eyes darted up and down, between an object far away, and the paper on the lap.

The rabbit turned again, his nose catching another smell and searching towards the direction the human was looking at, and against the chill, moved closer, to the sweet, distinct fragrance.

And amidst the flat yellow bed, in that late autumn... his eyes remained affixed...against a background of grey withering barks, adjusting to the dark, cloudy sky.

It pierced; a stalk that stood tall and thick, slightly bent, edged with sharp thorns...it pierced...naturally ferocious, naturally defensive... of the prize and beauty rested on the pinnacle. It shimmered, the blood-red jewel of uncountable petals, large in the deepest of tint, magnificence in its fullest bloom, to burst into a symmetrical splendour.

The last remaining rose shimmered, amidst a late autumn, amidst a yellow bed. Long after a distant spring, just before the coming winter.


A little explanation: How is this related to love? The original piece, the poem, was mainly a huge body of metaphor, disguised to tell this girl in subtlety what she meant to me: that I was in a state of sadness, when this other girl rejected me (long time ago, in my adolescence), then she appeared in my life, restored my hopes and filled my life with optimism. Many years later, the same thing happen...deja vu, so I was duly reminded of the poem...and decided to rewrite it.

Changes at of 09 March 2008: Edits: Many thanks to Maranwe Telrunya for the corrections. Corrected to most of the mistakes, except 'The Human' part, where I'd prefer to keep it that way for the plain reason the perspective is mainly from the rabbit, one who does not really care whether the Gender is a male or female... weird, I know. Heh.

I would probably find a replacement noun.

And I intend to keep the rose in symmetrical, maybe a grammar mistake somewhere?