Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Heavy clouds open their veil,
A thundering of droplets
Beat the ground,
And the dirt beneath the grass drinks eagerly
Wind sails past,
uninhibited by the wetness,
No, it conducts the rain;
A symphony,
Welcome in this April month,
With sounds that will calm,
Slow,
And lull
Busy living beings
To rest.
Familiar ping of icy droplets strikes the window pane,
Hits the pavement,
Snow, as forecast nestles between browned grass blades,
Winter has formally arrived,
Made itself known
With a frosted cold,
I am a small being,
Against the wind whispering chill upon my reddened cheek,
Against the magnitude of seasons taking place,
Against the backdrop of Earth and sky finding equilibrium,
Against the universe that goes on unfazed by changes over my head
— the life alerting weather shifts that fall down as soft white dust, building into great mountains,
It is cold,
And the rain trickles down the panes,
Whispering of winter still to come,
And I resist acknowledging the inevitable,
As if my denial of consent,
Will keep the seasonal clock
Right where it is.
Then, our wish granted!
A day blue with painted skies,
Meant to wander out
Into the natural world,
To find peace again.
The birds will wonder
Why the strange ones will find awe
In land always there,
Simply since their hide is warm,
And no wetness falls from sky.
11/1/2018
Autumn gently sweeps in,
With beauty and
The chill,
And so in awe
We bundle
And huddle close,
Reminded
To love,
For winter
Is about to set in
She of Letters 