THE FIFTH SEASON
In the stumps of the yard,
The broken edges of axes have left,
Like a guestbook,
Endless signatures and lines,
Marks.
The heavy doors of the towers
Cast a breeze,
Like sherbet for brides
When they step over the threshold
For the first time.
In the guest room,
Like a whirlpool,
Magic draws you in.
Everywhere the air embraces,
The springs kiss hands,
Trees open eyes of joy,
Birds scatter clouds and darkness,
Avalanches rest,
Paths widen into trails,
Slopes lend a hand,
Peaks bow before the guest.
The four seasons
Change like dancers in a beautiful dance,
But hospitality is a season
That never changes.
-
Author:
Sami Mulaj (
Offline) - Published: September 14th, 2025 19:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments1
A nicely painted picture of the scene, well detailed and imaged
As always, I greatly appreciate your careful reading and consider it a help in my efforts in verse! Thank you.
You are most welcome
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.