pavement fireworks /ˈpāvmənt ˈfīrˌwərks/ n. 1 Fallen leaves, named as such due to their richly-coloured 'fireworks' style formation scattered upon the ground.
It's a term I made up for autumn leaves on the ground, since Autumn is my favourite season =]
(I wrote a poem about Autumn & how it is actually the season of 'new beginnings', not Spring- you can read it below)
Once upon a time, I was a bitter soul;
My eyes were an empty void-
With a heart as black as coal.
But once upon a time, all of that changed;
Time healed my wounds,
And my life had been exchanged.
Yes, I remember the time I saw a man;
A man in a caravan.
With his weathered face
And tattered shorts,
He looked like a handyman.
Except for his hat.
The most marvellous thing I'd seen;
Tucked into a burgundy hat,
With gold ribbon at the seams.
I stared too much
To notice he was quite shy,
Until he approached me-
A gleam in his eye.
'Time' he announced, as if it were a fact.
'I'm sorry, what?' was my confused answer back.
'Seasons' he said instead, looking me in the eye.
'Which are the first that come to mind?'
'Full of colour and laughter?
Or how about the winter after?
Or ah yes! Of course, spring?'
'The season of new beginnings?'
'But what makes it so?
Is it the daffodils so yellow,
Reminding us of childhood carefreeness?
Or is it the new shoots
Protruding from buds,
Emanating nothing but pure innocence?
To the majority, yes-spring is the season of beginnings,
But to me? Autumn is the one to bring new tidings!'
'Autumn? That's ridiculous!
How can it be so?'
I stared for a moment bewilderedly-
His strange talk and rhymes were rubbing off on me!
'Ah my child-the answer is simple;
Because change is slow!'
Just because you see the flowers and fruits in spring, does not mean it started there.
In fact the seeds are sown long before spring is in the air.
"Preparation precedes the produce of labour.'
At the time I had simply looked around, glancing bored at my watch.
'Hush old man, you don't make any sense! Explain things simply,
Or else I will leave-Since your strange rhymes are rubbing off on me!"
He had smiled at me, an almost sympathetic look in his eyes.
I felt a knot in my stomach, as if something had suddenly gone missing.
The feeling made me uneasy, so I snapped some more until he gave up on his rhymes.
'Life is a journey. And that journey begins with preparation.
Is an aeroplane build one day and flown the next?'
'Why, of course not!' I scoffed.
'Yes, the engineers planned.
They made changes and adjustments to the plane, to check it is safe.
There were moments when it seemed man would never make a flying vehicle.
The Bristol Brabazon? Failed.
The Hafner Rotabuggy? Failed.
You can't disregard those countless moments of tweaking and tinkering, which finally led to results!'
I dug the toe of my shoe into the dirt; aeroplanes had never been an area of much interest to me.
Unaware of my boredom, he carried on.
'Life is a journey. And that journey begins with preparation.'
I sighed in boredom, rechecking my watch.
This time he noticed and hurried on, stumbling over his words as much as he was stumbling over his feet.
'Were you conceived one day and born the next?'
'Again, of course not!' I rolled my eyes to the heavens a second time.
'Again, your parents planned.
They made changes and adjustments in their lives, to make room for you.
There were moments during those nine months where your presence touched their hearts.
Tears of joy. And of frustration.
Laughter in excitement. And in anticipation.
You can't disregard those nine previous months, in which you had already started existing to them!'
I felt guilty as my stomach tightened, having never thought of it in that way.
'Likewise, Mother Nature clears the path for nature to undergo the process of change and start again.
Leaves are shed from trees,
Leaving golden memories of those rich, warm hues,
Scattered across the floor like pavement fireworks.'
I looked up at his hat thoughtfully.
Autumn leaves-like pavement fireworks?
'The beginning of new beginnings is beautiful in itself.'
I glanced over at the copper leaves on his hat, gleaming in the sunlight each time his head tilted to talk.
Yes, I nodded to myself, smiling and noticing the similarities, Beautiful in itself.
'But even that beauty has to end, as we harvest those fields of wheat and oats, stretching as far as the eye can see and melting into the horizon. That vision of gold and saffron hues comes to an end, only to be replaced by the beauty of milky snow.'
I felt that knot in my stomach again while wondering why-since I had never cared about these things before.
'And as your parents prepared, animals also prepare-squirrels scurrying to collect their supplies, bears snuggled up with their cubs at home.'
'And as your own mother would, Mother Nature's preparation period paves the way for wonders.'
I looked up at the heavens again-but in awe this time, not frustration.
I saw amber and copper falling from the branches set high in the sky.
Pavement fireworks. I smiled to myself.
And as Summer would, I leave you now with the beauty of change.
By the time I looked up, he was no longer there-
But the beauty of the words still rung in the air.
Life is a journey. And that journey begins with preparation.
The preparation of Autumn, I thought to myself.
And the beauty of Pavement Fireworks.
The Change had been around,
But it was only after appreciating Time,
That I came to hear its song.