cloud wisps
wedged between
fingers of sunlight,
rays
upon a lonesome maple,
golden leaves,
hangers on
for dear life;
this day,
a hush
between
Indian summer,
and impending death
of summer,
when wisps
become blanket
covering all;
new life holds secrets,
dark earth,
keeper of the flame,
fecund virginity;
this day,
a hush
between Indian summer
and barren winter.


Comments: 50
Thanks Moya and Carolyn. It is a wondrous change of seasons.
very poetic!
a hush
between Indian summer
and barren winter.//
My favorite.
when i look at the trees now, i feel that they are naked. we have to wait till the spring for them to put their clothes on again. But, I feel that they need their clothes now, to protect them against the cold, upcoming winter
and he joy that winter brings
superb descriptive writing, and a calmness about the scene
i am in awe
k
xx
John S., poetic analysis is very difficult. It is easy to know if we enjoy or appreciate poetry or poetry like things (which mine are) but exceedingly difficult to say why.
John S., poetic analysis is very difficult. It is easy to know if we enjoy or appreciate poetry or poetry like things (which mine are) but exceedingly difficult to say why.
Candida, thank you my dear friend.
Thank you very much, Laura. Your words are ambrosia to me.