Spring has arrived.
Fresh green leaves decorate
The warm wooden figure.
A soft breeze converses
With them and much more hither.
Summer is here.
The golden sun gleams down,
Polishing the tree's smaller companions.
Diverse insects venture through the high terrain,
All while the leaves float above low-lying canyons.
Autumn is present.
The warm colors are cascading
Down each crisping leaf.
After, they descend to the pavements,
Where they are pushed around in disbelief.
Winter is now.
Withered leaves tumble around,
Breaking apart quicker as time passes.
The last will feel nature's loving breath,
Then soon will be reborn through its benevolent ashes.
BG
-06/11/2017-
-
Author:
Brycycle (
Offline) - Published: November 7th, 2017 14:10
- Comment from author about the poem: Not very sure about this, hope you all like it :)
- Category: Nature
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments1
A year in the life, from rebirth in Spring through to the ashes of dead winter. Watch the leaves progress through seasons, an interesting observation point. Some worthy phrasings; "benevolent ashes, pushed around in disbelief, crisping leaf." Is it the time of year? Why are we declaring the season today? Loved your little journey through the annual turnings of the leaves. - Phil A.
Thank you for your kind words and your interpretation. Your comment is very much appreciated.
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