Category: seasonal poetry


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Colors lying all across the ground

yellow, orange, red, and brown

but I thought only of red

seeing this, after the trees had shed

because it’s the only human one

flowing through us until we’re done

It’s not what shows up on our skin

unless another, unkindly, breaks in

tearing us apart; instead of twirling

together, dancing and swirling

like the sweet, falling leaves

on the morning’s autumn breeze

 

 

 

 

 

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Yesterday, when I was walking

it was as though I could hear nature talking

This is what she said:

Ok, you beauties; my sweet color-changing trees

today’s the day; so everyone, drop your leaves

No need to hang on to that weight

Be free, let loose; the season will no longer wait

Now, all these winds will pass through that space

with no mark on your bared limbs, not even a trace

The high whistling of your summer has quieted down

Now the rustling below has become the most wonderful sound

Green is coming back

So delighted, for that

It makes me want to twirl

when flowers paint our world

Eyes sweep, then stare in a marveling gaze

with the deep down breaths of better days

The cold of winter passes on

to the sweet music of feathered songs

They echo lovely, through the background

to magically replace dissonant head sounds

And, rich blue skies prevail

while the strong lions, set sail

to brush against our recently, bared skin

reminding us of pleasure, once again

 

 

 

 

 

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I opened the front door

There stood little me

I was young once more

looked to be the age of three

I began to  wonder where I’d come from

it was so early; before the sun

there was not another soul around

the world was still; there wasn’t a sound

I gathered my small self and off we went

to find out what this unexpected appearance meant

Hand in hand, we went on our way

neither of us had very much to say

Our journey together, took us through the seasons

when finally, we discovered, what must be the reason:

To find yourself you must go back, and search far

then, meet near the middle, to see why, you are

 

 

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First of winter, yesterday

but summer still hung on by its skin

we soaked it in with sun’s drenching rays

not knowing when bitter cold, might begin to seep in

Then, we may turn varying degrees of blue

as days can’t hold on to their light

and autumn leaves drop off to become fewer than few

aware that winter’s wind comes with such a nasty bite

 

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the new year has begun without the sun

landscape of grey, choice hue for the day

but winter often lacks sun; outnumbering clouds have won

so, while we wait for golden rays, inward we search to find our way

thinking of future days and days past, all those memories held fast

with hope for peace in days to come; inner and outer wars, forever done

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No need to wrap it up

shouldn’t hide it ‘neath the tree

it’s much too special for that

anyone would have to agree

it’s okay to be seen; also heard

the perfect fit, just like a glove

the only cost a willing heart

to give the world, the gift of love