Time and Place Poem, by Margery Larch, at My poetic side

The pond with the swans is cold and quiet

but the swans are gone;

leaves once lush and green

rustle now in the north wind brown, burgundy, gold

a sky pressing down allowing no sunlight

but a few stray beams at the end of the day

shortened by the tilt of the Earth toward winter

so it seems lifeless and sterile, unwelcoming

affronting the visitor with a breeze too cold for beaches

I pull my coat close around me, hunching down

the sun lowers, the air turns violet and dim

all memory of love, of warmth, of pleasure, is locked away

for the siege; I shall not be here again,

shall not witness the creeping encroachment of winter

the shuttered windows

the bare trees

the bleak days

the solitary crow winging over the water, silent and cold

I am the water, silent and cold

but no one knows the depths

not even the swans

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Time and Place