Autumn…

Winds at dawn, dewdrops

lay shivering on blades of

green grass; windows rattle,

leaves slide across the

veranda floor; cluttered skies,

ice crystals’ a wonderland

upon the rocky shore.

A rising sun its radiance spreads,

flowers of summer are dead; the

field of Poppies’ only remembered

as a waving sea of red.

The garden filled with fall fare, blossom

seeds tilled into the ground; spread

beyond the garden gates a bounty of

squash, gourds and pumpkins abound.

The land cringes with the thoughts of

ice and snow that will soon be here; but

first it must wait patiently for the golden

autumn to disappear.

 

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

 

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