A free verse poem about the changing seasons |
I stand under the red and golden passageway Warm rain tattering on the leaves above Shaking loose the sweet maple scent Wafting in the mist that forms on the blacktop The trunks painted in semi-gloss grey and black Winter is well on its way, it's a matter of time now How sweet the air is filled with the dying leaves A paradox of life once more projected outwardly The warm rain is fleeting and short lived Bleak November will shortly envelop these woods The sweet smell will give way to the hard crunch Winters' coats of fur, snow and cold are coming These days so alive with color bursting out everywhere Soon to be replaced with a low sun and endless gray The quietness of snow will subdue the sound of life Bright sunshine will cast hope again that winter passes Sleepy time for most, a quiet time for others Warm fires, a good book or three to pass the time A smile, an embrace, soft touches and a kiss The hope that green sprites soon will dance again Spectacular glory, short-lived, tender and frail Celebrated, yearned for, loved and missed Boots shushing in the piles of the dead and dying Oh what beauty in it all, what grace, what love |