Saturday, November 16, 2013

Field in Autumn

Field of dirt and mowed green grass
Wooden fence squares it round
Flowing creek trickles past
Begone times beneath this ground

Chilly airs brush my cheeks
Swaying poplars play a tune
Wind pushes leaves off their anchors
Golden snowflakes falling down

White pines tower bend and bow
Mirroring their cousin poplars
Needles whoosh quickly falling
Bed of brown upon the loam

Trees now skeletons for a season
Blood flows slowly almost halts
Leaves and needles feed the soil
Awaiting life 'til warm winds blow


november, 2013