Eight-line Poems 2

A Seasonal Poem

A Seasonal Poem

Autumn and the year plods to another end
the trees blush and lose their clothes
the wind freshens and temperatures plummet
preparation is in the air with a hush and wait.

Some stave off the thought with celebration
but winter presses in with inevitable step
and I oversleep in the dark mornings
dreading the cold but glad of another year.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 10.13.24
Prompt: None.