End of Season

Back

End of Season

Cool down. The Flare folding under horizon
End of the season, a coal smouldering once more
Leaves holding on, holding stronger somehow
longer than before the emeralds of fields glow
Not a change in their color, not an impurity in the batch
Just bastions of jewels of summer not yet ready to hatch
Upon the turn, the solstace night. birthing orange, red, and gold
The flowers wilt slowly, the leaves curl and hold
together they bury, under mulch for another long winter cold
But for now, no change, just greened dew
no worries of sweaters, no jackets, no shoes
run through the lakeside, sliding around
get home quickly, the suns about to go down.

Last updated: 2014-09-08

comments powered by Disqus