Autumn’s colored splendor fades away.
It’s coming; I hear the north wind’s song.
Bare branches stand against a canvas gray.
Days shorten; nights become too long.
Cool, crisp, sharp, raw, blue.
Varied harshness marks its passing here.
Weak ones sometimes do not make it through.
At times, it also brings the strongest fear.
Blinding brightness – Snow is on the ground.
Icy crystals bend the straining bough.
Silence broken by its tinkling sound.
Surreal, it manifests its beauty now.
I love that old north wind's song. Beautiful poem. Actually, it's been pretty balmy up here. A few hard frosts on recent nights.
ReplyDeleteHope you and yours had a lovely Thanksgiving, Pappy.
Thanks Tess. We had a great Thanksgiving. Glad you liked the poem. You are becoming quite the prolific poet. I'm happy you decided to start posting them. Pappy
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem Dennis. Thanks for posting
ReplyDeleteNow this is what I can relate too, throw a little snow in the picture and your in my world here in Montana! LOL
ReplyDeleteWe're loving it though...thanks for your recent visit...you and your lovely wife are always welcome here, if your ever inclined to see this part of Montana you'd better blog me and let me know, our door is always open.
:)