When planets glow before Aurora’s rise
and stars seem scattered ‘cross the moonless skies.
I walk the leafy paths that take me home;
I have no inclination, now, to roam.
I pass the trembling trees whose leaves have bled
and share the secret sorrow they have shed.
The dawn is breaking, far off, in the east
and sounds of sighing ghosts have long-since ceased.
‘Neath rolling clouds upon the heathered vales
the dew drops wet the wings of nightingales,
as they seek solace ‘mong the brightening bowers,
shelter from cruel autumn’s senseless showers.
And I walk on, down too familiar lanes;
I hurry, to avoid the coming rains.
I mutter to myself; that’s just my age.
And peevish poets often rant and rage.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 2nd, 2020 02:22
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments4
Ha - yes indeed Kevin most poets give way to ranting etc at senseless weather etc........ a lighthearted read of autumn walks for those of a certain age - be sure to take a hot toddy in your back pocket next time my friend.
Many thanks, Fay. I penned this poem after a long walk. I had not written anything new for many months. I had been editing and publishing old poems. This was all I came up with. Glad you took time to read. And thanks for the hot toddy tip.
good write!
A perfect return to action for action's sake!
Fine words Kevin, I accept nature in all its glory.
Andy
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