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
