SEASON’S CHANGE… a poem

gray road in between trees in grayscale photography

Summer solstice how I miss you

As you boar down with summer sun

The grass was green, and the waters were so right

But here we are now freezing

These gusts of winds – far more than breezy

As winter creeps in and brings its depth of night

MY SEASON… a poem

To be young, lush, and full of life again.

To be the canopy.

To be seen strong and vibrant.

To feel the gentle tickle of the morning dew

And delight in the afternoon rain.

To sway in the winds and capture the sun’s rays.

Oh, but first I become naked and vulnerable

As I embark on this harsh, cold season of my life.

Then, when the stars have shone and Mother Earth

Has eclipsed old Sol

I will again rise to glory.

Come Spring…

Come Spring…

brown wooden bench beside tree

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