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Impressions from the waning of the year |
Autumn Ebbing Crispy morning nose nipping out scents and spores in the molded mulch of Autumn. Swept embers of lowering sun lightly warn a cheeky look, defiantly open faced in the barren glare of Autumn. Crackling leaves complain from trodden garden paths, fiery reds and yellows smoking the skies of Autumn. Shocked, the reaping fields arise standing watch on shadows bright, orange haunted stoops display the October prize of Autumn. Cold-hearted rain falling back, long evenings linger drawn to ironic grates of flame that log the nights of Autumn. Now members missing home flurry down the icy ruts, pack over-sweltered rooms, gobbling grateful all, for Autumn. Bleak the chilled outlook cries, keening winds whip barely fallen branches and mourn the demise of Autumn Author's note: ▼ |
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