FULL ROUND OF SEASONS
A foggy morn
Autumn forlorn
The minutes past
Projects outlast
Then Winter’s born
A FOGGY MORN
A FOGGY MORN
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seasons
All posts tagged seasons
WINTER’S PROSE TOO
Tattered and battered charcoal-gray wintered limbs reach and wiggle for the warmth of the sun; through a silver-gray winters pall; winters old and wintering in the yard.
THE WANE
The wood is boldly lit by a western sun
Sting chants a Desert Rose
Few leaves remain, clinging to branches
Water pools in low land
Reflecting clear sky
By rotting umber foliage
The planet rotates
As the light does evanesce
A sombre mood ensconces
The wood darkly
A MASK OF SNOW
It is still green
Remains to be seen
If this will be
The winter we’ll see
A mask of snow, keen.
Since I Saw You Last
Another year has past
Since I saw you last.
Your garments gone
You stand alone
Naked before a cobalt sky.
And soon the ground with white will lie
Before your barren trunks exposed.
Winter’s left you raw, unclothed.
Unadorned and branches bald;
The coldest season to sun scald.
Undisguised complexion bare
Nothing between you and the season’s air.
Another year has past
Minutes, hours: vast
You do your best, to manifest,
Since I saw you last.
