Autumn’s sun shines bright by day
warming the ground where fallen leaves lay.
As if Mother Nature had to sneeze
a strong wind blew the color from the trees.
Nighttime arrived with a clear star filled sky
sound asleep under a warm blanket we lie.
Jack Frost’s breath fell gently upon the ground
kissing the once green fields turning them brown.
I see Autumn’s brilliant colors are all but gone,
Summer’s sweet song has long been sung.
Short days followed by endless cold nights,
brown forest and fields are now Winter’s delight.
I see a bear walking about curious and free,
no more long Summer’s naps, in the shade of a tree.
She now searches for a safe and suitable den,
so her and her cubs, can sleep until Winter’s end.
I see squirrels abandon their tree-top penthouse suites,
storing nuts underground, or in the hollow of a tree.
Needing food aplenty, they will not sleep Winter away,
even on the snowiest days, the squirrels frolic and play.
Winter
The silent, and unforgiving boreal descends
Upon tawny fields and umber forests.
Snowflakes glisten with hues of periwinkle.
Endless night’s moon sires ice crystal’s twinkle.
The pure polar blanket of alabaster that once lay at the feet of sleeping trees no longer reflects the faint day’s light from barren skies of grey. Vanquished from the surface, transformed into liquid tinder, fueling the inferno of rebirth overhead.
The lake’s opaque tempered shell falls victim to longer days of Spring. Solar rays peel back Winter’s mask from the great mirror’s face, once again allowing Mother Nature’s image to rebound into the heavens.
I am but a single bard, standing in awe as the muse of the cosmos whispers gently in my ear; inspiring my voice, empowering my pen, painting my soul with respect; a respect of this place here and now, this beautiful place, adrift among the stars.
A white birch bows to Jack’s command
laden with ice upon each limb and branch
all of Summer’s color, his magic blanched
silent, it’s burden held within a frozen trance
Nearby an old willow stands up straight
once flowing branches completely encased
Her limbs pulled to the ground from the weight
Summer sleeps under a canopy of crystal drapes.
The landscape has become unknown
locked in place with tools of ice and snow
a tranquil wonderland only he could sow
Jack Frost’s Storm, a spectacle to behold.
Late Winter’s dusk set in shades of magenta and tangerine.
The Sun’s promise to the frozen soil, and sleeping trees
That Spring’s thaw will soon arrive, warming the land and seas.
Mighty trees’ boughs and limbs caressed by a warm breeze
As sunshine feeds their new and supple leaves of green.
The day’s radiant sunshine gives them life a clear cloudless blue sky grants full access white crystals begins to glisten then flow thawing them from the rooftop’s stock of snow.
Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch slowing as each falls over the ice edge racing toward the cold snow covered ground these lucid travelers polar air now surround.
Gravity draws their essence to the earth cold tempered their form is compromised riding the surface of those that came before and still they are pulled toward the forest floor.
Winter hands down its sentence onto me confined by the warmth inside my home cabin fever is driving me insane bars of ice now my prison’s window pane.
Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch the day’s radiant sunshine gives them life racing toward the cold snow covered ground these lucid travelers polar air now surround.