Eight-line Poems

Scraping Autumn’s Barrel

Scraping Autumn’s Barrel

Autumn, the two-edged sword,
remembered for fiery colours,
the fruits of harvests, the end
of heatwaves, and yet this
is mere preparation. Fall
recalls the depth of winter,
readies itself for icy death,
seeds life for another year.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 10.25.21
Prompt: “Wild is the music of the autumnal winds amongst the faded woods.” ~ William Wordsworth
Note: My poem is very cynical but Autumn has had its due appreciation and it’s time it was recognised as the little death it is.